


Spring Onion and the Silver Bullet Blitz

by Byacolate, mywordsflyup



Series: Claws and Crumbs and Red Bean Buns [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Genji is a Little Shit, M/M, Mates, Noodleshop AU, Ramen, Reaper76 (Background), Weredragon Hanzo, Werewolf Mates, Young Genji, Zenyatta/Genji (Foreground), werewolf mccree - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 66,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7643344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse McCree bares his throat for no man. </p><p>For a dragon, though...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A silly little AU fusion in a universe where the Shimada run a ramen shop instead of a criminal empire, and werebeasts exist. Set during McCree's Blackwatch era.

"I'll be damned if you haven't outdone yourself again, Shimada.”

 

Through the rising steam Hanzo eyes him evenly while Jesse breathes it all in. “You have not tasted it,” he says, and it’s just so dry that Jesse has to smile. He taps the side of his nose with a smirk. 

 

“Don’t need to. Besides, y’ never give me any reason to doubt.”

 

Behind the counter Hanzo moves with ease and expertise, taking his pretty eyes off of Jesse. “I might accept your flattery if you would stop choosing from the menu at random.”

 

“Hey now.” Jesse grins, poking at a floating strip of pork. “You know that ain’t on account a’ dissatisfaction. I just gotta know the full extent of your talents.” He winks when Hanzo glances up. “Intimately.”

 

Hanzo snorts, breaking Jesse’s gaze again. 

 

“Heel.” 

 

Normally, Jesse might balk at that. But there’s a quaint little universal sticker by the door that marks this ramen shop as friendly for folk like him. That aside, he’s made a fair few jokes about scales and fire-breathing himself that Hanzo’s taken with… Well, with withering stares, but to be honest those are pretty damn cute. Most everything about Hanzo is cute - not in a diminutive way, mind. He’s mighty fierce in the eyes, and the cheekbones, and the tone of his voice. He’s got a sense of humor that can cut glass and meticulous mane of dark hair, and Jesse’s man enough to admit he’s a little smitten. 

 

The food’s just as good as expected - just the right level of spice and then some. Jesse notices Hanzo watching him while wiping down the counter and gives him a thumbs up which only earns him another snort. He’s been coming to the Shimada ramen shop for almost a month now. It’s small but clean and well-managed, and while Jesse might dial up the flattery for Hanzo’s sake, the food is actually, gen-u-winely good. 

 

Hanzo comes back to refill his tea not a few moments later after tending to his other customers. His eyes flick to Jesse’s bowl. “You have inhaled them. Once again.”

 

“I’m a fast eater,” Jesse says and leans forward with a smile. “Can’t help myself when something’s _this_ good.” 

 

“Or you want to get it over with.” 

 

Jesse puts his hand over his heart. “Now hold on! Would I ask for a refill if that were true?” He takes a moment to remember the word Hanzo taught him on his second day here. “Kae-dama?” 

 

There might just be the lightest twitch in the corner of Hanzo’s lips but he turns around to refill Jesse’s bowl with noodles before he can be sure. 

 

He waits for the noodles to soak in the broth, stirring in a dollop of hot sauce while Hanzo busies himself with another customer.

 

The little shop is a bit of an olfactory assault, heady with steam and meat and spices, but Jesse can still manage to pick up a few hints on the other patrons. Most of them are human, but there‘s someone in the room that smells woodsy, crisp. A fox, if Jesse‘d hazard a guess. Kitsune.

 

It ain’t polite to linger on a stranger’s scent, so he slurps at his broth instead - hisses at the burn.

 

Hanzo returns to his station across the bar from Jesse, one impressive eyebrow cocked. So Jesse focuses on him instead. Hanzo’s scent is familiar now, practically indistinguishable from the restaurant. Sometimes he gets close, though, and in those brief encounters, the incorrigible wolf in McCree has sussed him out. Sharp, like metal. Like strong green tea.

 

Jesse wishes he’s find something poetic in the dragon under all that fine skin, like fire and brimstone and blood. But all that‘s lost under the scent of beef broth and sweat.

 

He wonders what a dragon’s sense of smell might be like. What he might smell on Jesse.

 

“Is it to your liking, cowboy?” Hanzo asks, nodding toward the bowl. Jesse reaches up to tip his hat before he remembers that it’s sitting in his lap.

 

“’Course it is. You’re a noodle genius,” he says with another wink as he lifts his noodles to cool.

 

“Hmm.” The tiniest hint of a smile on Hanzo‘s pretty mouth makes Jesse feel antsy. Good-antsy. Restless. Reyes would tell him to take a lap, but the mean old bastard isn’t stationed with Jesse this time around. Jesse converts all that energy into the Herculean effort it takes not to sprout a wagging tail. “Flattery again.”

 

“Ain’t flattery when it‘s true,” Jesse tells him with far more swagger than he feels, his insides as gooey as they are. He leans over his noodles, a great big steaming bite ready and waiting for him. “I’ve got compliments up to my ears for you, Shimada. Fit to burstin’ with ’em.”

 

“Please try to pace yourself.”

 

Jesse nearly inhales a bite of noodles. He manages not to choke, but only barely. It’s not exactly graceful but he has the feeling that Hanzo wouldn’t expect that from him anyway. 

 

Hanzo looks like he wants to say something but before he can open his mouth, the front door slides open. Two new guests come in, young schoolgirls who don’t smell anything other than human and seem friendly enough. They look at Jesse with open curiosity and he’s tempted to put on his hat just to give them a show. 

 

Hanzo clicks his tongue as if he’s read his mind. Or maybe he just knows him too well by now - a similarly unnerving thought. In any case, he goes to show the girls to one of the few tables in the back and to take their order.  

 

“You work too much, Shimada,” Jesse tells him once he’s back behind the counter and getting busy preparing the food. “Don’t you ever take time off? I don’t think I’ve ever been here and not seen you behind that counter.” 

 

Hanzo scoffs and starts chopping spring onions. “That says more about your work ethic than about mine.” 

 

“Huh?” 

 

Hanzo looks up from the cutting board. “You are here quite often.” 

 

“I’ll have you know I’m a hard-workin' man!” Jesse sits up straight. “I just know when to take a break.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

Well. It’s not like he can tell Hanzo he’s lying low from the last time he worked _just the right amount_ of hard. Like a vacation from the superiors of his superiors. He’s to stay out of trouble, so occupying himself daily in the Shimada ramen joint might as well be work. He’s awful punctual, consistent, and he‘s still getting a paycheck.

 

Jesse’s dedicated himself admirably to coaxing conversation out of the proprietor‘s son.

 

“Gotta admit, I do feel mighty refreshed comin’ in here after all my hard work,” he says, propping his chin on one hand as the other stirs his noodles. “Don’t rightly know if it‘s your face that does it for me, or these dee-lectable noodles.”

 

“Shameless,” Hanzo mutters. Jesse can hear him just fine.

 

“I think you like it,” Jesse says, leaning forward on his elbows. 

 

And there it is, that smile that starts up symphonies in Jesse’s gut. Those dark, dark eyes catch him up like witchcraft.

 

“You are very confident in yourself,” he says instead of flaying Jesse alive. A tragedy.

  
“Boy, I’d like to be,” Jesse mumbles, and stuffs his mouth full of noodles.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s way too early for ramen, even for Jesse. But what’s a man to do when the heavens have decided that today's the day for the second Great Flood and even his hat can’t substitute for an umbrella? For once, he’s in the area for completely non-Shimada related business, but when he sees the familiar lights of the shop shine through the curtain of rain, he knows exactly where he wants to go.

 

He’s only been outside for a few minutes but he’s already drenched to the bone when he slides open the door to the shop.

 

He hears Hanzo calling out something in Japanese somewhere in the back of the shop but he speaks too fast for Jesse to understand. Before Jesse can decide what to do, Hanzo appears in the door, a box filled with vegetables in his arms. He looks a little startled but Jesse’s seen him more irritated than this in the past.

 

“You,” Hanzo says and looks him up and down. “You are dripping on my floor.”

 

Jesse looks down to the puddle forming on the tiles below. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

 

“We are still closed,” Hanzo says and puts the box down on the counter.

 

“Maybe I wasn’t lookin’ for your business,” Jesse says, trying to leak in a less obtrusive manner. “Maybe I was lookin’ for your company.”

 

There’s something cosmically funny about the way Hanzo’s glare sends that inner tail a-wagging. Jesse tries not to let it show on his face.

 

“I have no time to amuse you,” Hanzo says, taking the vegetables out of the box, his every movement quick and precise.

 

“Nah, think you could use some amusin’ yourself,” Jesse says, wandering slowly in despite Hanzo’s aura. Maybe it was a dragon thing, forever permeating the vague threat of death. Hanzo clicks his tongue, but Jesse hasn’t been struck down yet. He takes that as a good sign.

 

Hanzo watches him as he moves around the counter, taking off his hat and coat on the way. He hesitates before stepping into the sacred area behind the counter. It’s been off-limits to him until now, but today Hanzo only keeps his eyes on him when he steps over that invisible line.

 

There’s still a bit of distance between them, too much for Jesse’s liking but it’s further than he’s ever gotten.

 

Hanzo turns slowly to him, one hand on the counter. “If you are so starved for entertainment…”

 

“Hmm…” Jesse takes another step.

 

“You can help me with prep.”

 

Jesse blinks. "Beg pardon?"

 

There’s definitely a smirk on that handsome face now as Hanzo pulls two cutting boards from the cupboard and places them on the counter. “You want to keep those hands busy,” he says and hands him a knife that looks big and sharp enough to gut a horse.

 

“That was the idea…” But Jesse takes the knife, if only to keep Hanzo smirking like that.

 

Jesse scrubs up twice under Hanzo’s watchful eye, wet sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He balks when Hanzo contemplates putting him in a cap.

  
“You leave my hair out of this, now. It’ll stay in place like it oughta.”

 

“Then perhaps you could use one for your beard,” Hanzo says with a dismissive gesture. Jesse reaches up to touch it self-consciously before he’s sent back to the sink to wash up again.

 

“You leave my beard outta this, too.” He towels his hands off and takes up the knife again. Hanzo instructs him on how to properly dice and slice each vegetable, and Jesse gets to work. They go at it for a while, Jesse chopping, Hanzo peeling. It’s nice, in a way. Pleasant. Apart from the other employees bustling around in the back, it’s only him and Hanzo there. His scent has never been sharper. “Think you’d look good in one.”

 

“In one what,” Hanzo sighs. Jesse takes a handful of green onions and starts in on them.

 

“Oh, probably anything,” Jesse tells him. “But I was thinkin’ about a beard, specifically. You got a good face for it.”

 

It’s Hanzo’s turn to pause and his hand is halfway up to his face before he stops himself, his frown deepening slightly.

 

Jesse grins and keeps his eyes on the onions. “You got a face for that frown, too. A mighty talented face, I must say.”

 

Hanzo huffs and rummaging in the box as if that would keep him from having to acknowledge Jesse’s compliments. “You talk too much,” he says after a while, when his search for anything more to peel and keep his hands busy fails.

 

“So they tell me.” Jesse chops the last of the onions and drops them into the designated bowl. “They keep calling it a flaw but honestly? I call it talent.”

 

Hanzo stares at him.

 

“You like it,” Jesse says when he doesn’t get more of a reaction. Perhaps it’s the lack of a counter between them or the way he says it, a little quiet like it’s just meant for Hanzo’s ears, but for the first time Hanzo almost seem a bit flustered.

 

Jesse’s gonna sprout that tail any goddamn minute if he isn’t vigilant.

 

“Finish your task,” he says gruffly, escaping through the door to the back room. Hate to see him leave, love to watch him -

 

Jesse cuts that though off at the pass, whistling to himself while he chops. Eventually, Hanzo reappears with condiments and clean chopsticks for each of the stations. The task doesn’t fall to Jesse this time, only a young woman - human - who seems surprised to see him there. He’d tip his hat were it on his head.

 

“Howdy.”

 

“She does not speak your cowboy language,” Hanzo chides when she gathers up the chopsticks. “Try English.”

 

“You just want my southern charm all to yourself.”

 

Hanzo clicks his tongue but doesn’t deny it either.

 

The woman takes another look at Jesse before turning to Hanzo and saying something in Japanese. Whatever it was, it only makes Hanzo bustle through the shop and frown even more. She hides her laugh poorly behind one hand and nods at Jesse before finishing her task and vanishing into the back again.

 

“She likes me too,” Jesse says, proudly sealing off every little bowl with a lid. “I can tell.”

 

“She does not. She just likes to see me… _irritated_ ,” Hanzo finishes lamely and quickly turns away to set some decorations straight that didn’t need any straightening.

 

“Huh,” Jesse says and steps over to the sink to wash his hands. “Then I guess she sees you _irritated_ pretty often lately.”

 

Another click of his tongue. And once again, no denial.

 

Jesse grins to himself as he dries his hand with a towel.

 

“You got anything else for me here, boss man?” he drawls, leaning over the counter. Their positions are reversed from how they’ve always been, and Jesse can practically see Hanzo having the same thought. “I’m pretty good with my hands.”

 

“So you say,” Hanzo quips, turning away. Jesse chuckles, making his way out from behind the bar.

 

There’s no sweat-scent on Hanzo yet - just that green tea sharpness and something dully medicinal like unscented lotion. It fits, what with his soft-looking hands and general demeanor. There’s something else too, something deeper. Jesse knows it’s there, like if he tucked his nose right under Hanzo’s baby-soft jaw he could breathe it in -

 

“Put away your fangs, McCree,” Hanzo says suddenly. Jesse catches himself at the beginning of a goddamn shift, embarrassed that Hanzo saw it but grateful that he caught it in time.

 

“Sorry,” he grunts, pulling all the extra sharp bits back where they belong. “Gettin’ close to the full moon.”

 

Hanzo looks at him for a moment, his eyes narrowed, but then something softens in his expression. “It is no trouble.”

 

Jesse takes a step back anyway, just in case. It’s not like he can get Hanzo’s scent out of his head but he can at least try.

 

“Do you always have… problems with this?” Hanzo asks and steps around him towards the counter.

 

“Shifting?” Jesse rubs his chin. “Nah, only when it’s close to the full moon. Being distracted doesn’t help.” He winks but somehow Hanzo’s closed off again, his lips a hard thin line as he starts wiping down the already spotless counter.

 

Jesse doesn’t push it. Some people are weird about shifting, even nowadays. Hanzo doesn’t really look like the type but making him uncomfortable is the last thing Jesse wants. Not that kind of uncomfortable anyway.

 

When the woman from before comes back to bring meat and seafood for preparation, Jesse moves behind the counter without prompting. He can see Hanzo stiffening slightly from the corner of his eye but he doesn’t protest. Only forces him to wash his hands again.

 

It’s just like with vegetables, both of them working side by side. Mostly in silence for a change, because it feels like the thing Hanzo needs from him right now. Even if it goes against Jesse’s very nature. When all the meat and seafood is cut, marinated and stored away, Hanzo puts away the knives and cutting boards as well. Jesse is reluctant to move out of the space behind the counter, now that he’s finally conquered it, but there’s nothing left for him to do but stand around. He somehow has the feeling that won’t endear him to Hanzo very much.

 

It’s stopped raining a good while ago and sunlight streams in through the windows. Jesse looks at his hat and jacket, still on the chair where he left them and still soaking wet. The thought of putting them back on is less than enticing.

 

There’s a noise behind him and he turns around to find Hanzo setting a place at the counter where Jesse usually sits.

 

“Sit,” he says, filling up a glass with tea from his pitcher.

 

“What?”

 

Hanzo knocks on the wooden counter. “Sit down.”

 

Jesse’s body follows Hanzo’s commands without questioning, which… should worry him more, probably. “Why?” he asks while he’s already sitting down on the barstool.

 

“You helped with the preparation,” Hanzo says, pulling some of the bowls filled with pre-cut vegetables down from the shelves. “You have earned the first bowl.”

 

“Ah,” Jesse says, already fiddling with his chopsticks. “But you haven’t even asked me what I want.”

 

Hanzo shoots him a look that’s so exasperated that he can’t help but grin. “I will decide what you want,” he says and something inside of Jesse clenches almost painfully at the tone of his voice.

 

“Oh, I bet you will.”

 

Hanzo doesn’t dignify that with a response. He sets to working and Jesse contents himself with just watching him. Seems safer this way. Few days out ’til the full moon and the scent of a pretty boy’s got him losing control like he’s a damn kid again.

 

Jesse’s clothes stick uncomfortably to his body, so he tugs at the neckline. Naturally, it doesn’t help a lick, and the pull of wet flannel against his skin’s more or less on par with getting shot in terms of pleasantness.

 

Still. He looks damn good in plaid, and vanity demands its price.

 

“You are very quiet.”

 

He perks up.

 

“You missin’ my dulcet tones? Makes sense. I’d miss ’em too.”

 

“Pretend I said nothing.”

 

“No can do, partner. Those lines’ve already been read between.”

 

“Then close your eyes so you cannot read them.”

 

Jesse leans forward on both elbows. “And miss this view? Not a chance.”

 

Hanzo glances up from his task, a little furrow in his brow. “Have you never heard that it is unwise to tease a man who feeds you?”

 

“Who’s teasin’?” Whatever Hanzo‘s cooking up is starting to smell damn good. “I don’t think I’ve ever been disingenuous to you, Shimada.”

 

To his surprise, Hanzo just looks thoughtful. “That,” he says and reaches for a clean bowl, “is difficult to believe.”

 

“But once again, the truth. No need to lie when the truth looks this good.”

 

Hanzo rolls his eyes but Jesse expects that by now. The relaxed line of his shoulders in new, though. As is the little smile he gives him when he puts down the steaming bowl of ramen in front of him.

 

Jesse picks up his chopsticks. “Still won’t tell me what I’m eating here?”

 

“It is not on the menu.”

 

“Something special? Just for me? Shimada…”

 

“Do not let it go to your head,” Hanzo says, just a bit too quickly.

 

“How could I not?” Jesse lifts a piece of beef with his chopsticks. “When you know exactly what I like.”

 

“You still have not tried it,” Hanzo points out, keeping his eyes on his hands as he cleans. “And I have seen the things you pick from the menu.”

 

 _Damn_ is it good. Tangy, spicy, a little sweet. Extra onions, ‘cause he knows Jesse so well. The broth is thicker, too - creamier than anything he’s had prepared here before. Jesse doesn’t censor a groan of pleasure. “Oh, darlin’,” he sighs. “I’ll quit my day job and work under you for the rest of my natural life if you pay me like this.”

 

Hanzo radiates smugness, well-deservedly. “You are easy to please.”

 

“C’mon now.” Jesse takes a few moments to savor the dish, just this side of too-hot. “Be straight with me - this ain’t new for you. You’ve made this before.”

 

Hanzo snorts. “Of course I have. I would not experiment with you. As I have just said, you are too easy to please.” He folds his arms over his chest - real nice ones. Thick. Must work out. “This is a dish I prefer myself.”

 

Jesse slurps up a mouthful of noodles with vigor as he speaks. “Mmf.” He holds up a thumb. “Looks like we both got pretty good taste then, huh?”

 

Hanzo sniffs with the slightest upward turn of his nose. “ _That_ is debatable.”

 

Jesse grins with half a mouth full of noodles.

 

“This is pretty intimate, wouldn’t you say, Shimada?” he says. Always did like to press his luck. “You, lettin’ me in on this secret part of your life.”

 

“Just because it is not on the menu, does not mean it is secret.”

 

“Feedin’ me something you love.”

 

“You will be very fortunate to ever be fed by me again.”

 

“I like my odds, though.”

 

Hanzo doesn’t deign this with a response but as soon as Jesse has finished his noodles, he’s there with a refill.

 

“And you always know when I’m ready for more,” Jesse muses, stirring the noodles into the leftover broth.

 

It earns him a snort, a proper one that Hanzo is too slow to cover with his hand or by turning away. Jesse perks up at the sound.

 

“You do not know when to cease, do you?” Hanzo regains his composure but Jesse has seen enough of the cracks.

 

“Who would? When he’s so sure of victory.”

 

“A little too certain perhaps.”

 

Jesse fishes the last piece of beef out of the broth. “Hmm… I don’t think so.”

 

“Is this what counts as charming among your people?”

 

Jesse cocks an eyebrow. “ _My_ people?” That was mighty forward. 

 

“Your people. Cowboys.”

 

Jesse laughs out loud. The sudden outburst only makes Hanzo frown.

 

“Nah,” Jesse says with a wink. “Been told I’m a real charmer.”

 

“By the exceptionally foolish, no doubt.”

 

Jesse shrugs, stirring impatiently as he waits for the noodles to soak. “Mostly older women.”

 

“Hmm. When I wish to know the opinion of your grandmother, I will ask for it.”

 

“Hey now.” He points his chopsticks at Hanzo. Then he thinks he might’ve read somewhere that that’s real rude, and lowers them. “Don’t you sass my _abuela_. She thinks I’m a mighty handsome young man.”

 

“You -” Hanzo begins before he very swiftly cuts himself off. He waves a hand as if to ward away whatever he was about to say. “- are a _ridiculous_ young man.”

 

“Ridiculously handsome?”

 

Hanzo moves closer to the counter, just a step. “I do not offer compliments as easily as your grandmother, Jesse McCree.”

 

“Aw, just a little one’d do me, _Hanzo.”_

 

He startles at the name, just like Jesse expected and it might just be the cutest thing he’s seen in days. And not at all negated by the huff that follows. “You are… persistent. Not all would call that a compliment, however.”

 

“I’ll take it,” Jesse says, leaning forward. “You look like a man you appreciates patience.”

 

“Persistence,” Hanzo corrects. “I said nothing about patience.”

 

“Nitpickin'. And I can be patient if I want to be.”

 

“Emphasis on _want_.”

 

Jesse sighs. “Isn’t there always?”

 

He thinks Hanzo is going to roll his eyes again but he just gives him a thoughtful look. There’s more to say - at least for Jesse there usually is - but there’s still that pesky little detail that Hanzo still has a shop to run. Which Jesse is so rudely reminded of when the door behind him slides open and the first patrons of the day steal Hanzo’s attention away from him.

 

As much as Jesse’d like to stick around and pester him a little longer, he’ll let Hanzo do his job. He puts his cold wet clothes with a grimace, popping the hat onto his head in time to tip it at Hanzo as he leaves.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing was initially gonna be like a quarter of the length it is now, but you guys have been really sweet so here's A Lot More Than That.  
> p.s. you're all amazing thank you for the comments and the kudos. i love you.  
> p.p.s i edited this in an airport on two coffees and five hours of sleep, so any errors are the fault of the poor life choices that led me to this point. - B
> 
> i got you, b. - m

The day of the full moon, Jesse feels that old familiar restlessness under his skin. He feels everything a little more, smells more sharply, tastes heightened. It’s the second full moon he’s weathered in Hanamura. As much as the classic pictures like to portray _the change_ as a primal, relentless curse, Jesse’s never known anybody that had to chain themselves to a radiator to keep from breaking out to tear into any defenseless humans.

 

It just makes him antsy - too big for his skin. He’s already taken two extended jogs since waking, collapsed under his own weight after twenty-seven reps of push-ups per arm.

 

The way Hanzo eyes him when he enters the shop makes him feel a little self-conscious. Maybe he didn’t manage to totally  wash off the scent of all the day’s sweat - or worse, the scent of frantically jerking himself off in the shower. Twice.

 

For a second, he considers sitting at one of the tables instead of his usual spot at the counter, but that might be have been even more conspicuous. He sits down, willing his feet to stay still.

 

When Hanzo turns to him to take his order, his scent is almost overwhelming. Even through the smell of soap and the green tea, a scent that must just be pure Hanzo is so clear that Jesse has to close his eyes for a moment to get his bearings.

 

“I need a minute,” he says, breathing through his mouth. “To decide.”

 

Hanzo nods, his expression still curious. He turns away and the movement carries over another wave of scent to Jesse, even harder to ignore this time.

 

It’s ridiculous. He’s a grown man, not some cub going crazy on his first full moon. But still, he can’t shake the images forming in his mind. He wants to bury his face in the crook of Hanzo’s neck, in that scent. Sink his teeth into it. And, not surprising him as much as he thought it would, he wants Hanzo to sink _his_ teeth into Jesse.

 

But he really, really can’t think about that right now.

 

Hanzo returns just a few minutes later, a small tray of tea in his hands.

 

“I was thinkin' somethin' more along the lines of uh... beer,” Jesse says when Hanzo pours him a cup.

 

“It is not even noon.”

 

“I'd call that the perfect time.”

 

Hanzo scoffs and pushes the cup across the counter towards Jesse. “Drink. It will help.”

 

Jesse picks up the cup and sniffs. He recognizes the scent immediately. “That’s the tea you drink.” He sniffs again. It’s weird to smell something his brain has already connected so closely with Hanzo. “What is it?”

 

“Family recipe,” Hanzo says, shifting his weight. His expression if anything seems almost embarrassed. “It helps to... calm one's self.”

 

“Ain’t I calm enough?” he asks like he’s not on the verge of growling. The tea’s too hot to drink. He takes a sip anyway. It’s bitter as hell, with a slight sting of mint. He takes another.

 

“This some kinda ancient dragon magic?” he asks. He can hear that his own tone is off, that teasing edge disappeared. Full moons always make him go funny.

 

“Something to that effect.”

 

Hanzo turns to answer another customer’s call while Jesse looks over the menu. Things are Bad with a capital B when the sight of the nape of his neck drives Jesse a little crazy.

 

His belly feels like a bottomless pit, like there’s a hunger in him that couldn’t possibly be sated. He wants meat - lots of it. They probably make meat noodles somewhere in the world.That’s gotta be a thing. He wonders what he could to for Hanzo to convince him to find out and make it for him.

 

Or just stick a whole lamb in maw, still bleeding. He ain’t feeling picky.

 

He’s still staring at the menu, his thoughts caught somewhere between raw steak and the slope of Hanzo’s jaw, when a steaming bowl of ramen is set down in front of him.

 

“Your stomach growling is irritating the other patrons,” Hanzo says and nudges the bowl closer to him.

 

Jesse is pretty certain it isn’t his stomach doing the growling but he accepts the bowl with a mumbled thanks. It’s bigger than the ones Hanzo usually uses, filled to the brim and topped off with thrice the usual amount of beef.

 

The sight of it is momentarily enough to distract him from Hanzo’s scent.

 

By the time he’s halfway through his second serving, the pit in his stomach feels at least a little bit filled. But more than that, he feels like he can think a little clearer, the haze of the full moon slowly lifting. His senses aren’t exactly dulled but he’s able to push past them more easily.

 

“Feeling better?” Hanzo is back, leaning against the counter but keeping a little bit more space between them than usual - something Jesse hasn’t even noticed until now.

 

“With you around? Always.” It still sounds a little off and he knows Hanzo can tell. He sighs. “Yeah, a bit. Sorry ‘bout all that.”

 

Hanzo shrugs, something Jesse doesn’t think he’s ever seen him do. “It happens.” He takes Jesse’s bowl to refill it with more beef.

 

“To you?” He drinks deeply from the cup, eying Hanzo over the rim. Then he nearly chokes. “Sorry,” he coughs, wiping the wet corner of his mouth. “That was a real personal question. I’m not in a, uh… decent state of mind right now.”

 

Hanzo’s eyebrows stay up. “You are forgiven,” he finally says, and answers another customer’s call.

 

Much as that little faux pas grates at him, Jesse can’t help but wonder about Hanzo’s impeccable self control. Does the full moon affect dragons like it does to wolves? Jesse’s known a few foxes and coyotes in his time that’ve felts its pull, if not as strongly. He wonders what it means that Hanzo always smells so strongly of this tea, and what it’s meant for.

 

He’s really gotta stop thinking about Hanzo so much. At least when his brain-to-mouth filter is as flimsy as it is on a normal day, much less with the pull of that damn moon creeping in his too-small body.

 

Because more than anything, he’d kill to close that distance between Hanzo and himself, to know the scent that taunts him under his skin as intimately as he knows his own. And damn, he really, _really_ can’t think about his scent and Hanzo’s like that, not together. There’s too much want in him, and not enough self-control to stomp it down to dust.

 

Hanzo brings him more tea and more food - both of which only help marginally.

 

“Perhaps,” Hanzo says as he pours him his third cup, “you would be more comfortable at home.”

 

“And miss out on this treat?” He takes a sip and makes a face at the bitter taste. Hanzo’s face remains blank as he watches him. “I’d go crazy all cooped up there by myself. With nothing to do.”

 

Hanzo doesn’t look convinced.

 

Jesse can’t decide if it gets better or worse as the day progresses and more and more customers come into the shop. One the one hand, their scents help to mask Hanzo’s, even if just a little bit; but on the other hand, in this cramped space all the different smells and sounds are like an onslaught on his senses.

 

But still, at home he’d just be climbing up the wall by now. Or jerking off. Probably the latter. Another dangerous thought best buried deep until he’s by himself again.

 

Then again, he doesn’t want to cause Hanzo any trouble, and the way he keeps glancing over and refilling his cup makes him feel fussed over.

 

Worse: he’s enjoying it. Can’t rightly remember the last time anyone took the slightest bit of care for him during moon time. And now he just feels guilty for it. Hanzo’s got a business to run; he can’t be babysitting a full grown man just because that man might go and sprout claws at the sight of his ass in work slacks.

 

He downs the rest of his cup and leaves enough to cover the bill, and almost double for putting up with McCree’s moon swings. Jesse’s putting on his hat and halfway to the door before Hanzo halts him.

“Where are you going?”

 

Jesse shrugs, trying to make his smile reassuring. “Around. Probably take another run before it gets too late.”

 

Hanzo nods shortly. And then, to Jesse’s surprise, “Return before nightfall.”

 

“Pardon?” Jesse blinks. Hanzo waves him off.

 

“You heard me. Before you go home for the night, return to me.”

 

“Uh.” Jesse tips his hat up. “Yessir. Y’won’t mind if I’m a bit furrier than usual, would you?”

 

Hanzo smirks. “I am sure I could not tell the difference.”

  


 

 

 

 

He spends the next few hours walking around town and then, when the noises and smells get too much and his skin begins to feel tighter and tighter, he starts running. It feels good, using all that pent-up energy and clearing his mind. He keeps to the outskirts of town. No need to alarm more people than necessary.

 

The pull of the full moon gets stronger the closer it gets to sundown and he finds it more and more difficult to keep from shifting. With Hanzo’s tea wearing off and the sun slowly setting in the west, the urge to just give in is almost unbearable.

 

When he finally lets go, it’s like taking a deep breath of air after being underwater for too long.

 

He gets back to the shop a little later than intended. It’s already dark enough for the streetlights to flicker on, but at least the shadows make it a little easier to move around without running into too many people. He hasn’t experienced Hanamura as especially dangerous for his kind, but better safe than sorry.

 

The lights of the shop are still on but dimmed, just like every night shortly before closing. It’s a little early for that. Hanzo usually keeps the shop open until much later. But when Jesse gets closer, he doesn’t hear or smell anyone other than Hanzo himself.

 

He’s sitting at the bar in a fresh change of clothes, tapping away at his phone. His hair is down, a dark wave over one shoulder. He still smells like sweat, like a hard day’s work, but Jesse himself must be reeking. Hanzo looks up, tucking the phone away in his - god, Jesse wouldn’t know what that getup was called if his life depended on it.

 

“Hey,” he says - _doesn’t_ growl - lifting the hem of his t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. Jesse knows he must look a mess, especially next to a man who manages to make traditional flowery Japanese garb work. And he does make it _work_.

 

Jesse runs his tongue over the fangs in his mouth, willing them back.

 

“I’m goin’ a little nuts over here,” he warns, one hand still on the door as he pulls his shirt back down. Hanzo smoothly moves to a stand, pulling a ribbon from his getup and tying his hair back up.

 

“I am not concerned.”

 

“‘Course not,” Jesse says, running a hand through his damp hair. “Why would you be? Bet you could kick my ass in a heartbeat.” He thinks he’d like that. The wolf wants to play. “Not that I don’t appreciate a little private time with you, darlin’, but you mind telling me what I’m here for?”

 

“I thought perhaps you could use a proper outlet for your aggression,” Hanzo says, and eyes Jesse like he’s sizing him up. Jesse swallows.

 

“Beg pardon?”

 

Without a care in the world, Hanzo closes the distance between himself and Jesse. “Come. I will show you.” Hanzo stops at his side to look up at him through those damnable eyelashes, and Jesse thinks he’d follow him anywhere.

 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “sure, whatever you say,” and follows Hanzo out into the night.

 

To Jesse’s relief and disappointment, Hanzo leads him through a series of streets and opulent archways to… a temple?

 

“Uh,” Jesse says and slows to a stop, even though something inside him demands that he keeps following. “Did you bring me here to pray?”

 

Hanzo stops as well and throws him a look over his shoulder.  “Why? Do you need to pray?”

 

It takes a moment for Jesse to realize he's joking. Dry as a bone, but still a joke. He laughs, the loud sound dispelling some of the anxiety in his gut.

 

Hanzo turns to face him in the center of a grand room. “Looks can be deceiving, cowboy. Where people once prayed in this temple, now we use it as a dojo.”

 

“We?” Jesse removes his hat in a hurry, as an afterthought. “Y’mean Hanamura?”

 

There’s a glint in Hanzo’s eyes that Jesse’s tempted to call mischievous. “No,” he says. And without further explanation, “If it makes you more comfortable, remove your clothes.”

 

“What kinda dojo is this?” Jesse asks, pressing his hat to his heart. “Not that I’m complainin’ or nothin’ -”

 

“For your change,” Hanzo says tersely. Jesse’s laugh is quieter this time, sheepish.

 

“I don’t think I oughta pull the claws out on these nice wooden floors.”

 

“Your claws will not be the worst these floors have seen.”

 

With some hesitation, Jesse takes his shirt off and tosses it on the floor near the wall together with his hat. He keeps his pants, for now. Hanzo watches him, completely unabashed.

 

“So,” Jesse says and folds his arms over his chest. “What happens now?” He can feel the pull of the moon now that it stands high in the sky and it's getting more and more difficult to keep his focus.

 

Hanzo spares a dubious glance at his jeans. “Change.”

 

Jesse wants to. Can’t remember the last time he got all fuzzy around - well. Someone he liked. Worries that maybe he’ll let on exactly how much he does like Hanzo. Worries that he’s not worried about that nearly enough.

 

Hanzo must sense his hesitation. “I did not know cowboys could be this shy about anything,” he says, slowly backing a few steps away. “You did not seem the type.”

 

“Well,” Jesse says and fiddles with the buckle of his belt. “You didn't strike me like the type to ask a guy to strip on the first date.”

 

Hanzo lifts an eyebrow at the last word. “It seems were both mistaken.”

 

And then, before Jesse even has the chance to change his mind about the pants, Hanzo leaps at him.

 

He's fast. And even after years of training, Jesse’s reflexes are just enough to dodge out of the way, but not enough to stop Hanzo from reaching out and tapping him on the shoulder. It's all he does, just a light tap, but Jesse is as startled as if he'd been punched square in the face.

 

“What was that?” he asks, bringing some distance between them.

 

Hanzo seems utterly unfazed.  “Change.”

 

“Goddammit, Shimada, what are you -”

 

And Hanzo does it again. He moves so fast that Jesse can hardly keep up, feinting to the left and crouching low to sweep Jesse’s legs out from under him.

 

Jesse hits the floor with a snarled curse. “Son of a _gun_ ,” he growls, hoisting himself back up by his claws. Hanzo looks satisfied with himself, or maybe it’s with Jesse. His skin prickles with the stretch, with the fur that grows, but it’s a good sort of sensation - an itch finally getting scratched.

 

He expects the sensations rushing in but they still hit him with full force, Hanzo’s scent the strongest of them all. What has been difficult to ignore before he changed, now rolls over him like a wave.

 

Whatever the tea does for him and however much he drinks of it, it can’t compete with the raw scent of the dragon underneath. Jesse knows he’s audibly sniffing as he pulls himself up, but Hanzo just rolls his shoulders and watches him.

 

“All that energy,” he says and shakes his head. “Suppressing the change for so long will drive you mad.”  

 

“Somethin’ will,” Jesse growls. His joints crack and pop as his body reshapes and adjusts. “Ain’t gonna fight you.”

 

“Then you will find yourself back on the floor.” Hanzo moves like water, his bare feet nearly soundless over the wooden floor as he feints left, then right. Somehow, the slippery bastard manages to knock him on his ass by getting Jesse’s changing, reshaped legs twisted around themselves.

 

He’s back on his feet a little quicker now but still doesn’t mover further than that. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

 

The corner of Hanzo’s mouth ticks ups. “What makes you think that you can?”

 

Cocky. Usually Jesse likes that but now it only makes him nervous. Hanzo wouldn’t be the first who underestimated a werewolf. He might be fast and slippery as an eel but in this form he’s still… soft. A collection of parts that can bend and break and be torn apart.

 

Jesse hunches over, impulse, before he rises again feeling a lot furrier than a heartbeat ago. “I ain’t messin’ around, Hanzo.”

 

“Good.” Hanzo grits his teeth, and they’re -

 

Jesse doesn’t have long to take them in, but they’re damn near as sharp as his scent, which floods his senses with the last of the change. He dodges effortlessly at Hanzo’s next pass, and in the same movement, he grabs Hanzo up and slings him over a shoulder. He’s broader there - broader everywhere. It comes with the transformation.

 

He feels something sharp digging into his back. Claws, perhaps. The thought makes the back his neck tingle. The way he throws Hanzo off is more of an instinct than calculated move.

 

Hanzo twists before his hits the floor and lands almost gracefully. Jesse gets another look at those sharp teeth when he smiles.

 

“Better,” he says and then he’s on him again, even faster than before. Jesse dodges again but just barely and yes, those are _definitely_ claws that manage to get him once across the left shoulder. Jesse growls. It’s not a deep scratch and heals right up but it stings like a bitch in the interim.

 

He has no time to dwell on it because Hanzo is on him again, feints left before he leaps, catching Jesse off-guard. He stumbles back to avoid getting hit in the face but dodges the next one a little bit more confidently. But still, Hanzo has him on the defensive, backing away towards the corner of the room with every attack.

 

This won’t do.

 

He sees Hanzo’s next attack coming, slowly getting used to the way he moves. He goes for his legs again but this time Jesse is prepared. He follows the movement, twists and grabs Hanzo’s shoulder once he’s close enough. He sees the surprise on Hanzo’s face once he realizes that Jesse is using his own momentum against him. One second later, he’s on the floor, his body pinned to the ground by Jesse’s weight.

 

Jesse might be slower than Hanzo but he makes up for it in mass and strength. That doesn’t stop Hanzo from trying, straining and twisting underneath him even with Jesse’s teeth so close to his throat.

 

Hanzo smells... Jesse sticks his nose against Hanzo’s neck, pure instinct. He can’t quite recall why he always thought it'd be such a  bad idea. The reward seems disproportionate to the risk now. Whatever scent had been evading him before, what with all the distance and muted senses, overwhelms him. Jesse snuffles at him, a pleased rumble starting up like a motor in his chest.

 

Briefly, there are fingers in the fur of his chest - dug in, tugging... not gently, but Hanzo doesn’t smell like fear. There’s no aggression to it. Not like there is in the way Hanzo does some ninja magic with his legs, and hauls Jesse’s hefty ass over until Hanzo’s the one on top.

 

There are wicked points to Hanzo’s nails, and if Jesse’s not going out of his mind with the moon madness, something like blue scales have begun crawling up Hanzo‘s neck.

 

Hanzo snarls, exposing more of those sharp teeth. “ _Focus_ ,” he says, his voice hoarse. “You allow yourself to be distracted too easily.” But he doesn’t move, his hands firmly on Jesse’s shoulders. When Jesse growls, he digs his claws in a little deeper.

 

Jesse thinks he could throw him off easily if he wanted. He could also grab him and pull him in. He could do a number of things but all of them would probably lead to Hanzo not being on top of him anymore, which is the opposite of what he wants.

 

Hanzo’s frown deepens and Jesse realizes this is probably exactly what he means when he says “distraction”.

 

He moves to grab his side, not sure if to push him away or pull him closer, but Hanzo pins his arm to the floor before he can even complete the thought.

 

“Too slow,” he says and there’s a smugness to it that makes Jesse’s head spin. Jesse’s glad Hanzo’s facing this way, or he’d see Jesse’s goddamn tail a-wagging.

 

“Sweet-talker,” he grunts. The blue at Hanzo’s neck creeps higher, and this time when Jesse’s attempts to free himself are thwarted, he realizes that Hanzo really is pretty damn strong. Still, as they are in their changes, Jesse still has the advantage of raw strength. Slowly but surely, he manages to lift his arms despite Hanzo’s grip.

 

He’s not gonna throw Hanzo. He’s just gonna… displace him a little. Jesse throws his weight into it and rolls over - sure enough, Hanzo lets go to keep himself from being crushed. Jesse uses the opportunity to throw himself back onto his haunches, and then backwards across the floor.

 

Hanzo flips himself up in one smooth motion that’d have Jesse whistling if his reshaped muzzle would allow for it. Hanzo pushes his hair out of his face and there are even more blue scales on his neck now. Now that he’s caught his scent, Jesse wants nothing more than to dive back in and press his nose against the side of Hanzo’s neck. To take in all he can.

 

But Hanzo doesn’t give him the chance. When he lunges at him again, he’s quick to evade as soon as Jesse moves to grab him. One second he’s in front of him, the next he’s circled him and Jesse has just enough time to dodge when he aims his kick straight for Jesse’s ribs.

 

There’s a rhythm to Hanzo’s attacks but it takes Jesse a few more minutes to figure it out. Once he does, it gets easier to block them. He’s still mostly defending himself, fully aware that Hanzo still hasn’t changed completely yet. But when he pushes him off with enough force to make Hanzo skid across the floor, it earns him a pleased little smile.

 

And when he realizes it, it hits Jesse between the ribs that he’s having _fun._ Sure, he’s shifted with others before - even other wolves. Reyes nearly clawed his ass up that first time they went through their moon cycle together, so Jesse usually avoids him. He doesn’t have wings like Morrison that force Reyes to go easy on him.

 

Not that Hanzo’s going easy on him; Jesse has to grab his leg midair before it connects with his gut. It’s a powerful swing that he’d braced himself for, but it still sets him a little off balance.

 

Not too much, though - Hanzo’s caught in an awkward position, one leg up in the air and the wolf keeping it prisoner as the only thing keeping him upright. Jesse flexes his claws around the meat of Hanzo’s calf.

 

He allows himself a second of triumph and it’s exactly one second too long. He has no idea how Hanzo does it but he lets himself fall back and down when Jesse expected the exact opposite. He’s too surprised to let go of Hanzo’s leg, stumbling forward. He tries to regain some balance with his other arm but there’s nothing to hold on to. He’s falling and he’s going to crash into Hanzo.

 

And then, just before the tipping point, Hanzo grabs the fur of his shoulder and twists out of the way. Jesse has to let go of his leg if he doesn’t want to crush his own arm, and it’s all Hanzo needs.

 

Jesse hits the ground with a grunt and then a wheeze when he feels Hanzo’s knees digging into his back. Once again, he’s pinned to the ground. Hanzo has one hand curled around the back of his neck, his claws sharp points against his skin.

 

If Reyes tried the same thing, Jesse has no doubt that the wolf overtaking his brain would’ve balked. In this form and out, the wolf McCree doesn’t care a whit for forcible shows of dominance. It ain’t in his nature.

 

Something about Hanzo quells that distaste to something different altogether. Maybe it’s how far apart they are on the food chain: the dragon and the lowly wolf. Jesse inhales deeply through his nose, drowning in Hanzo‘s scent, the chemical wax in the floorboards, the weight of his body, the press of his hand.

 

”Woof,” he jokes, but it’s weak.

 

Hanzo doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t move away either. Heat pools somewhere deep in Jesse’s belly when he feels him shift his weight, leaning in closer. Hanzo’s other hand shifts between his shoulder blades, pressing him against the floor. He’s close enough that he can feel his breath on his neck and then… he hears him sniffing.

 

The grip on Jesse’s neck tightens, just a little bit but it’s enough to get his heart racing. Not with fear but with something just as intense - the anticipation of it almost enough to make him whine.

 

“You okay up there, Shimada?” he asks instead.

 

He can feel Hanzo freeze and then the pressure is gone when Hanzo gets off his back. Jesse misses the weight of him immediately, like he’s too light without it. Like he’s afraid of just floating away.

 

He pushes himself up into a sitting position. Hanzo crouches on the floor next to him, a small distance between them. He’s taking deep breaths, but his eyes are still on Jesse. The blue scales have spread all the way down his arms.

 

Somewhere in all the scuffle, Hanzo’s ribbon has come loose, his hair a thick, dark fan over his shoulders. He’s flushed with exertion - only just, but it‘s there. His teeth are sharp points, and his eyes pulse as if to glow gold. Those blue scales have crept up his jaw and pepper his high cheekbones.

 

Jesse swallows.

 

“Damn, you’re a pretty sight.”

 

Hanzo huffs, and Jesse thinks it’s laughter.

 

How nice it‘d be to sink under those claws again, he thinks. Or to press his face into all of Hanzo’s crevices radiating the heady musk of sweat.

 

“Is there nothing I can say that will halt your flattery?”

 

Jesse’s eyes flick to Hanzo’s mouth and back to his eyes. “I could think of a few things.”

 

Hanzo pulls his hair back to tie it with a new ribbon. “Momentary distractions do not count.” He gets to his feet. “Are you ready to go again? Or do wolves tire so easily?”

 

Jesse all but jumps to his feet, his claws scraping over the floor.

 

He’s ready for Hanzo’s attack this time, quicker to recognize his patterns and movements. He likes to feint left before leaping and favors going for his legs to avoid being grabbed. But he’s getting stronger as well, with every blue scale appearing on his skin. He hits Jesse in the chest with the palm of his hand and it knocks the wind straight out of him.

 

Jesse’ll fall and dodge and catch when he can, but he’s not gonna fight Hanzo. He thinks Hanzo’s finally copped on, and he’s getting a little frustrated, a little more aggressive. But Jesse won’t fight him.

 

He fights for a living. He’s been fighting his whole damn life; he doesn’t want to fight Hanzo.

 

However, sweeping him off his feet is a real good time. Hanzo gasps and shouts and fights it, so Jesse has to get creative about it. He manages to drag Hanzo up off his feet three times before he laughs so hard he nearly collapses under Hanzo’s weight. His laughter sounds more like throaty bellows that wrack his body, and Jesse puts Hanzo down before he rolls onto his back, belly bared as he rides out the laughing fit.

 

“Have you no shame?” Hanzo gripes, and that’s definitely a flush over his face.

 

“Nah. Not a bit,” Jesse manages between gulps of air.

 

“I brought you here to fight,” Hanzo says, already moving to get back on his feet.

 

“Nah,” Jesse repeats and grabs his arm to pull him back down. He lands next to him on the floor with a little undignified huff that has Jesse laughing all the more. “You brought me here to get rid of excess energy," he pants. _"A proper outlet for my aggression.”_ His impression is awful and he knows it but the face Hanzo pulls makes it all worth it.

 

Jesse’s hand’s still on his arm but Hanzo doesn’t shrug him off. Jesse decides to take it as a good sign.

 

Hanzo is silent for a moment while Jesse catches his breath. “Did it work?” he finally asks.

 

Jesse turns his head and pats his arm. “You gotta work a lot harder than that, Shimada. I’ve got a whole lot of energy.”

 

“But you will not fight,” Hanzo deadpans. Jesse grins, even though he knows it’s a grim sight.

 

“That’s right.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

Jesse takes advantage of this relative peace to stretch - a real, proper stretch. He raises his arms above his head and flexes all his sharp fingers and toes. “There’s other ways to release all this pent-up energy, y’know,” he says, playing it cool. Casual. He’s laying on his tail so there’s no way Hanzo can see it wag. “Lots more fun than grappling - well, no, they’re kinda similar, but horizontal-like. Wrestlin’. But better.”

 

“And I thought you ran your mouth excessively before.”

 

“You could just tell me to put my mouth to better use.”

 

Hanzo huffs. “Is that how this works? You feeding me pitiable lines?”

 

Jesse rolls to his side to take a better look at Hanzo. “A nice change of pace, isn’t it? Me feeding you for once?”

 

“Shameless.”

 

“I’m not hearing you complaining, though. Uh. Not much, anyway.”

 

Hanzo leans back on his hands. His eyes wander from Jesse’s face down to his shoulders and chest. And then, further still. He’s tempted to stretch again. Or flex.

 

“I take it your tail wagging is a good sign?”

 

“My tail -”

 

Oh, _goddammit_.

 

Jesse reaches below himself to keep the damn thing still but it’s no use. Hanzo has seen it and Jesse knows from experience there’s no unseeing a grown man wag his tail like an overexcited puppy.

 

Hanzo smirks. “I am tempted to give you treats.”

 

Jesse knows he’s teasing him but something about Hanzo's tone makes him perk up.

 

“Don’t go teasin’ me, Shimada,” he growls, rolling up into a crouch. He’s being watched with no small amount of amusement, which is… honestly a lot more comforting than he might’ve expected. At a glacial pace, Jesse moves closer until he’s got both arms holding him up on either side of Hanzo’s hips.

 

Hanzo doesn’t retreat.

 

The scent of him is just as intoxicating as it always is, but this sweat was built from exertion. It permeates the air around him, without the interference of steam and broth and a dozen other bodies. Point of fact, the only other body he can smell on Hanzo is his own.

 

Jesse tucks his nose under Hanzo’s ear and down his throat, taking long greedy breaths. Hanzo smells like him, and Hanzo smells like himself. The scales he feels are smooth, though not as soft as flesh, with curious ridges that Jesse’d love to explore if he had a mouth shaped for it.

 

There are claws in the scruff of his neck, now, but they ain’t pushing him away.

 

The grow rumbling in his chest is completely involuntary but Hanzo doesn’t seem to mind. The claws dig in, pulling him a little closer, and he turns his head as if to give Jesse better access.

 

He could get lost in this - the scent of Hanzo and the pinpricks of his claws and the way his breathing quickens when Jesse places one hand on his hip. But Hanzo doesn’t give him the chance.

 

With a move that should be all too familiar to him by now, Hanzo pushes him, flips him on his back until he’s straddling him. His claws are digging into Jesse’s shoulders, pinning him down. His eyes are glowing.

 

“Sorry,” Jesse says, a little breathless. “That was -”

 

“No.” Hanzo shakes his head, strands of hair falling over his shoulders as he leans down. He presses his face against the curve of Jesse’s neck and inhales deeply. The feeling of claws vanishes as he runs his fingers through the fur of Jesse’s shoulders and chest - far gentler than anything he’s shown him until then.

 

Jesse hears himself start to whine before he shuts himself up. His wide, ungainly hands press up against Hanzo’s waist despite being pinned, trail up to his ribs. There’s a powerful rumbling in Hanzo’s chest that makes Jesse tip his head back, throat bared. Hanzo seems awful pleased about it too. His hands wander, kneading at Jesse’s scruff like a cat before he sits up.

 

His eyes flash bright and brilliant, the darkest gold Jesse’s ever seen.

 

“Hey,” he croaks. “Can you breathe fire? That’d be - that’d be hot.”

 

Can’t even make himself laugh at his own joke, he’s so far gone.

 

Hanzo smiles, sharp teeth gleaming, and Jesse feels his heartbeat speed up. “You are a strange man, Jesse McCree.” His claws scrape across his chest, just enough to make Jesse growl.

 

“I’m a simple man,” Jesse says. “With simple needs.”

 

“Hmm.” Hanzo doesn’t seem convinced, shifting his weight in a very distracting way. “I would like to kiss you.”

 

It’s like getting the air punched out of him again, just about ten times more intense.

 

“Uh, I don’t think I…” He trails off, a little embarrassed. He doesn’t think he could change back right now if his life depended on it. Not with all that adrenaline rushing through his body and Hanzo’s scent engulfing him.

 

Hanzo blinks and starts to retreat, but Jesse holds him still. “This ain’t really my kissin’ mouth,” he confesses, imploring Hanzo with his gaze. “Think I might die if I don’t get one, though.”

 

“Do your dramatics ever cease?” Hanzo asks, but damn him if he don’t sound fond. His claws comb through the fur of Jesse’s face.

 

“You bring out the best in me,” Jesse says.

 

His heart nearly pops right out of his chest when Hanzo dips down low to press a kiss to the side of his muzzle.

 

“There,” Hanzo says. “This will have to do until you are less…”

 

“Fuzzy?”

 

“In so many words.”

 

Jesse laughs and if it sounds more like a bark Hanzo doesn’t comment on it. He keeps stroking through the fur of Jesse’s face, elbows resting on his broad chest. He looks a little flustered but mostly just pleased with himself, though the blue scales spreading down his chest give him away. Jesse wonders how far down they go but the thought only makes his skin feel tight and tingly.

 

How can he stay so calm and collected through all of this when Jesse feels like someone set his tail on fire? It takes everything he has not to flip Hanzo on his back and dive straight back in chasing that scent. To bite and lick and nuzzle at every inch of him.

 

Jesse shifts his weight until he’s sitting up with Hanzo across his lap. He recalls distantly that they’re in the middle of a grand temple where anyone might see them, but it doesn’t stop him from curling his arms around Hanzo.

 

“I can kiss you, then. Later,” he prompts, nudging his nose against the juncture between Hanzo’s neck and shoulder. Hanzo allows it.

 

“You may ask me later.”

 

Jesse stifles another whine, and feels his tail thump against the floor. “You’re gonna kill me, darlin’.”

 

“Not tonight.”

 

“Nah,” Jesse huffs. “Slowly, over time.” Hanzo’s laughter is deep and quiet, but it rolls through Jesse like summer thunder. He all but crushes Hanzo against him. “Come home with me?”

 

Hanzo makes an indecipherable noise, keeping Jesse on his toes until he finally, finally agrees.

 

Getting up without letting go of Hanzo proves more difficult than anticipated - mostly because he didn’t anticipate Hanzo clinging to him like this, pressing his face in the curve of his shoulder again and again. Which is probably a good thing since it means he can’t see the dumb grin that just won’t leave Jesse’s face.

 

“Gonna be hard to walk like this,” he says when he’s finally on his feet, Hanzo still pressed against him.

 

“I would let go if you let me.” His tone is still far too fond for his own good.

 

“Yeah. Right.” Jesse still has one massive hand on the small of Hanzo’s back - a perfect fit, even with the claws.

 

Something about Hanzo seems… bigger tonight. The prominence of the dragon, maybe. Probably. Maybe Jesse’s just a besotted fool. He doesn’t know what he stands to gain from draggin Hanzo back to his cramped apartment for the night, but the thought of parting from him breaks his goddamn heart.

 

It’s the wolf. It’s gotta be.

 

Hanzo knows the streets of Hanamura best, so when Jesse tells him where he’s staying, Hanzo guides him through back streets where the shadows are deepest. They make it back without a hitch.

 

Even if the stories were true, Jesse still thinks he’d trail after Hanzo like a puppy rather than cut loose and terrorize some folk who didn’t smell half as nice.

 

He doesn’t really think about what his apartment might look like to Hanzo until they’re halfway up the stairs. He stops, trying to remember when he last did the dishes, but loses the thought immediately when Hanzo pushes him against the wall and noses at the underside of his jaw just inside the door.

 

It’s difficult to think of anything else when Hanzo’s practically growling into his ear and digging his claws into his sides.

 

He almost drops his keys at the door and isn’t even a little bit ashamed of the low impatient whine that escapes him.

 

The apartment smells like it always does when he hasn’t been here all day, like a stranger’s place he just happened to stumble into. It’s twice as weird with his senses heightened like this. Hanzo doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t even look at the bottles on the table or the dishes in the sink but keeps his golden eyes on Jesse the whole time.

 

“Hey there,” he chuckles, pressing his whole damn face into Hanzo’s hair. That smells like him too, and Jesse’s gonna drive himself crazy like this. “Goddamn, you smell nice,” he grumbles, pulling the ribbon back out of Hanzo’s hair. Doesn’t want to get the pretty thing dirty, though, so he keeps it bunched carefully in his fist.

 

“It is the moon,” Hanzo tells him.

 

“Nah,” Jesse says. “You always smell nice.”

 

He’d sure like to shift back if only to kiss Hanzo. He would if he didn’t think it’d kill him.

 

His claws wander down over Hanzo’s muscled back, his perfect ass, his thick thighs - and he stops himself short. Gliding back up to the safer territory of his spine. There’s no way he’s gonna cover their first time in fur.

 

“You are warm,” Hanzo says and runs his fingers through the fur of Jesse’s shoulders and neck.

 

“That’s the fur,” Jesse tells him with a little chuckle.

 

“No, you are always like this.” Hanzo gets on the tip of his toes to link his hands behind Jesse’s neck. “I can feel it even through the heat of the stove at the shop.”

 

Jesse doesn’t know a thing about dragons other than that they smell amazing. Or maybe that’s just Hanzo. But shouldn’t they be the warm ones? He knows lizards like to sit in the sun for hours but maybe that’s an insensitive comparison.

 

“I like it,” Hanzo says, sensing his hesitation.

 

Jesse takes a deep breath. “Well, good. Nothing I could do about that anyway.”

 

Hanzo laughs again - that rich, quiet noise that Jesse wants to pull out of him endlessly. “Love your laugh,” he mumbles, gathering Hanzo up like it really could be squeezed out like the juice from an orange, only twice as sweet.

 

“You talk too much.”

 

“Worth sayin’, though.”

 

They’re both filthy with sweat and tumbling over the floor of the dojo, but Jesse balks at the thought of trying to wash Hanzo’s scent from himself - or his scent from Hanzo.

 

“Want some coffee?” Jesse growls as he tugs Hanzo to the bedroom, where his own scent is the strongest. It’s probably warmer there too, if Hanzo likes that sorta thing.

 

Hanzo hesitates and for a second, Jesse worries he left out too much dirty laundry on the floor. “I do not think that would be a good idea,” Hanzo says.

 

“The coffee?”

 

“It makes me…” Hanzo makes a hand gesture, looking for the right word. “Unruly.”

 

“Hmm.” Jesse kicks a pair of boxers under the bed. “I might like to see that.”

 

Hanzo laughs but shakes his head. “Not like you think.”

 

“Alright, whatever you say. I think I have tea in here somewhere…”

 

They find the tea, pushed far into the back of a cabinet, and Hanzo prepares it with calm, experienced hands. Afterwards he moves on to help Jesse with the coffee before he can spill the grounds on the floor while trying to rip open the packet. His own claws haven’t quite retracted completely but they're far less pronounced now than when he dug them into Jesse’s scruff before.

 

Jesse’s not sure whether he likes Hanzo more when he’s poised or when he’s losing control. Maybe he’s never losing control - maybe he’s got as tight a grip on his shift as he does with Jesse’s insides.

 

As much as the scent of hot coffee makes a house feel more like home, Jesse abandons it almost immediately when he gets Hanzo into bed. He doesn’t disturb Hanzo’s cup, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make himself a cozy little pillow on those powerful thighs. Hanzo sips his tea over Jesse’s head and follows the line of his muzzle with curious fingertips.

 

“Liked your claws,” Jesse confesses, curling an arm over Hanzo’s knees. Hanzo hums and the next time Jesse feels fingers through his fur, they’re razor-sharp. “You’re a big ol’ sweetheart, you know that?”

 

“I do not.” There’s a smile in his voice Jesse’d love to see, but that would mean moving from the comfort of his lap.

 

“You hide it well enough.”

 

The claws run across his throat and make Jesse shiver all the way down to his curling toes. “There is nothing to hide.”

 

Jesse makes a contemplative noise and closes his eyes. “Plenty.” He feels as much at peace as he’s ever felt during the full moon. The moon still has its hold on him but the restless energy has given way to a comfortable calm. He suspects it has something to do with those sharp claws running through his fur and his breathing slowing to match Hanzo’s.

 

“I think I’m gonna keep you around for every full moon now,” he says.

 

“Will you fight me next time?” Hanzo rests his hand high on Jesse’s chest. “You would feel better now if you had.”

  
“Better than this?" Jesse huffs, baring all his teeth in a ghoulish grin. "I don’t rightly think so.”


	4. Chapter 4

The coffee scent’s gone cold and stale once Jesse wakes up, back in the shape his body normally inhabits. The inside of his mouth feels gummy and he grimaces, burying his face into the pillow. 

 

It gasps. 

 

“Let me up,” Hanzo grunts, tugging at his hair. Jesse looks up from Hanzo's belly to his face, hair askew, expression tight. Jesse rolls over and Hanzo’s out of bed in a heartbeat, out of the room even faster. 

 

Jesse hears a door slam, but it’s not the front door.

 

He slowly sinks back down into the warm spot Hanzo left, grinning to himself. “If you had to piss, you coulda shoved me off any time you liked,” he croons. Hanzo doesn’t respond.

 

The spot where Hanzo slept smells like him, his scent layered and melding with his own. He wonders if he’d find the same combination on Hanzo’s skin now and the thought makes him a little restless. 

 

He feels like he always does after the full moon - like he wrestled a bear in his sleep. This time, it probably also has something to do with the punches Hanzo landed last night. His arms and legs are heavy and on any other day he’d have just gone back to sleep for a few more hours, but Hanzo is still here; sleeping in the last thing on his mind. 

 

There’s no sound coming from the other room. Jesse gets up from the bed and stretches. Some of his muscles are always stiff and aching after a full shift. It’s been worse than this before. He bends over to touch the floor in front of his toes and sighs at the stretch in his thighs. When he straightens back up, he finds Hanzo standing in the door watching him. 

 

His hair is back in order. Not tied back but falling over one shoulder. There’s no trace of the blue scales this morning. No claws either.

 

Jesse clicks his tongue. “Pretty as a picture.” 

 

“You look terrible,” Hanzo tells him, dragging his gaze down Jesse’s… well, everything. He should probably find some clothes. It makes him grin to think he’d slunk through Hanamura last night in nothing but his boxers. 

 

“Don’t smell too great, either,” he huffs. Then, Jesse perks up. “Hey,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Whattaya say you and me squeeze ourselves into the shower? You know, real conservative-like.”

 

“Conservation is your primary concern.” 

 

Jesse grins. “Now Hanzo, why don’t you look convinced?”

 

“Because I am not.” Jesse moves closer, and Hanzo doesn’t pull back, so he drops his head to Hanzo’s neck and sniffs at him like a puppy. “I have not brushed my teeth,” Hanzo grumbles. 

 

“You can use my brush,” Jesse says. Hanzo makes a noise.

 

“That is disgusting.” 

 

“Got no use for spares, sweetheart. I got mouthwash?”

 

He hears Hanzo’s exasperated sigh but there’s also his hand curling around the back of Jesse’s neck. No claws, just a gentle touch urging him a little closer. 

 

“I thought the full moon would finally exhaust you.” 

 

“Not by a long shot.” Jesse presses his lips to Hanzo’s neck, something he finally gets to do, and smiles at Hanzo’s sharp intake of breath. Hanzo smells exactly like he thought he would, wrapped in Jesse’s scent like a cloak. 

 

The hand on his neck wanders to his chest, only to push him back. 

 

“We are filthy,” Hanzo says, his cheeks a hint darker than before. 

 

“That was the idea.” Jesse’s eyes flick to Hanzo’s mouth and he slightly pushes against the hand on his chest but Hanzo stays firm. “Okay, okay.” He steps back and runs a hand through his hair. “You’re real uptight about this.” 

 

The corner of Hanzo’s lips ticks up, obviously pleased with himself. 

 

“It does not deter you.” 

 

Jesse risks brushing his knuckles under Hanzo’s chin. “Goddamn right it doesn’t, sweet thing.”

 

Hanzo bats his hand away and retreats into the bathroom - and Jesse’s heart breaks a little to hear the latch click behind him. 

 

But that’s alright. There’ll be a future full of shower opportunities with Hanzo. 

 

Despite his breath and state of undress, Jesse whistles to himself as he strolls into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. He’s got some eggs in the fridge, some flour, some milk. He could treat Hanzo to a real hearty American pancake breakfast. Fry some eggs in there, too - Hanzo seems the protein-conscious type. 

 

“My type,” Jesse chuckles to himself, digging around in the fridge. Distantly, he can hear his phone buzz somewhere by the vicinity of the front door. Probably in his jeans where he dropped them there last night. He takes a moment to consider that it might be Reyes, and pointedly ignores it after that, closing the fridge with his hip.

 

By the time Hanzo emerges from the bathroom, Jesse’s on his second cup of coffee and has finished the batter. He’s sorting through a small bowl of blueberries, trying to decide if they’re still good enough to serve, when the door to the kitchen opens. 

 

“I had to borrow some of your clothes. My apologies.” Hanzo looks even smaller than usual in Jesse’s shirt, the hem of it brushing against his thighs. His arms fill them out real nicely though, Jesse can't help but see. His hair is still wet from the shower and he smells strongly of Jesse’s soap. It’s almost enough to make a man forget about breakfast and his own foul morning breath. 

 

“No need for apologies,” Jesse says. “Looks better on you anyway.” 

 

Hanzo rolls his eyes and steps closer to the kitchen counter, eyeing the batter and the blueberries. He’s close enough to touch but he shoots Jesse a sideways glance before he can do as much as move a muscle. 

 

“The bathroom is free now,” he says pointedly. 

 

Jesse groans. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a cruel, cruel man?” 

 

It earns him a little smile that's distracting enough that he doesn’t even notice when Hanzo steals a blueberry right out of the bowl in his hands. 

 

Well. A little retribution’s in order. When he leans over to set the bowl down, he ducks in to press a kiss to Hanzo’s cheek, and doesn’t even try to evade the lazy swat in his direction. “Do not press your luck.” H  


 

“Sugar, if I didn’t do that, you wouldn’t be here,” Jesse calls over his shoulder before he retreats into the bathroom.

 

It’s probably for the best Hanzo hadn’t agreed to a shower together - these Japanese apartment showers were sinfully small. If he’d put off rutting like an animal against Hanzo under the full moon, he doubted squishing him silly in this tiny shower would be any better. Jesse gives himself a quick, perfunctory scrub, stops to squeeze himself only once - any more than that and Hanzo’d definitely know what he’d been up to.

 

Stuff he’d rather get up to with Hanzo himself, anyway. 

 

In the spirit of pressing his luck, when he finally wanders out of the shower, Jesse takes a detour to the kitchen with a towel around his waist. 

 

“I thought we could… Hey! I was supposed to do that!” 

 

Hanzo looks up from the sizzling batter in the pan. There’s a small neat pile of pancakes on a plate next to him on the counter already. He raises an eyebrow. “You thought I would not know how to make pancakes?” 

 

“Didn’t say that,” Jesse grumbles, stepping up to the stove. “Just wanted to treat you for a change.” 

 

Hanzo rolls his eyes but it’s half-hearted and the smile on his face gives him away. “You will get your chance.” He flips the pancake in the pan. 

 

“Hmm. I’ve got ideas for that.” 

 

“Of course you do.” 

 

Jesse doesn’t miss the way Hanzo’s eyes flick to the low-riding towel around his waist, even though he’s quick to busy himself with the pan on the stove again. 

 

Jesse inches closer and closer until he’s pressed right up against Hanzo’s back.

 

“You are dripping on me.”

 

Jesse kisses the back of his head just because he can. “Your hair’s still wet, too.”

 

“And you are not helping.”

 

“Boy, I’d like to be.” He presses another kiss just behind Hanzo’s ear.

 

“Would you?” he asks, leaning back into Jesse, who sighs, wrapping an arm around him.

 

“More’n you know, darlin’.”

 

“Good.” He flips a pancake with grace and flair. “Then set the table.”

 

“You're really somethin' else!” Jesse ducks in to place one last kiss on side of Hanzo’s neck, which has the added bonus of dripping more water down his back. Hanzo shudders and swats at him but Jesse has already spun around. 

 

Hanzo mumbles something in Japanese and wipes the water from his neck before adding the pancake to the pile on the plate. 

 

Jesse can’t stop grinning like an idiot as he sets the table, stealing glances at Hanzo’s back while he works. When he’s done, he goes on to make Hanzo some tea.  


 

“I could get used to this,” he says, leaning against the counter. 

 

Hanzo scoops the last of the batter into the pan. “Me cooking for you? I thought you already were.” 

 

“You wearin' my clothes.”

 

“That makes one of us,” Hanzo says, curling his lip at Jesse’s... everything. Jesse winks and flexes a little. 

 

“Thought I’d pay you back for makin’ me breakfast.”

 

“Consider me repayed with interest.”

 

Jesse hisses, clasping a hand over his heart. “I yield,” he moans, staggering back to the bedroom. The snort that follows in his wake is gratification enough.

 

Still. Hanzo’s scorn doesn’t stop him from finding the snuggest t-shirt he owns, and a sinfully tight pair of jeans. He knows exactly how his ass looks in them, and he ain’t above using them as a weapon. 

 

Normally he feels so defenseless under the stare of the dragon. At least his outfit can give him an edge, even if it’s all in his head.

 

He comes back into the kitchen just as Hanzo sets the plate with pancakes on the table. His outfit doesn’t earn him more than a look that lingers for just a second longer than usual but he still counts it as a win. It doesn’t deter him from stretching a little more than necessary when he gets the syrup from the top shelf, just enough to make sure his shirt is riding up. 

 

He turns around with a triumphant smile on his face only to find Hanzo already sitting at the table, completely preoccupied with picking suitable blueberries out of the bowl in front of him. He’s sitting in a way that allows Jesse a good look at his bare legs. His face is the picture of innocence as he pops another blueberry into his mouth but Jesse knows intent when he sees it. 

 

He’s ready to go down to his knees right there and then. 

 

Jesse collapses on a chair across from him, groaning appreciatively at the first bite. Hanzo makes a face.

 

“You prepared the batter.”

 

“And you cooked it to perfection.” Jesse twirls his fork while he chews. “‘Sides, can’t a grown man appreciate his own creation?”

 

“A grown man can appreciate many things that he should not so loudly.” 

 

Jesse hopes to high heaven there’s nothing in his teeth when he smiles at Hanzo. “How 'bout you? How loudly do you show your appreciation?”

 

Hanzo spears a neat little bite with his fork and eyes it critically. “Not at all.” 

 

“Now that right there sounds like a challenge to me.” 

 

Hanzo chews and swallows before he even looks at Jesse. “To you, it would.” 

 

His dark eyes rest on Jesse for a moment before he takes a sip of his tea. He licks his lips seemingly absentmindedly before continuing to cut up his pancake, but Jesse is hard-pressed to read every single one of his moves as calculated. 

 

There are images in his mind he needs to drown in coffee and syrup if he wants to finish his breakfast at all. 

 

“You are staring,” Hanzo says suddenly without looking up. 

 

Jesse leans forward and sighs theatrically. “Can you blame me?” 

 

“I am tempted to.” 

 

“Now, I know I must’ve mentioned once or twice how nice a figure you cut, Shimada-san. A man could lose himself in cheekbones like those.”

  
Hanzo narrows his eyes. “That makes no sense.”

  
“Yeah, but talkin’ about the smoky depths of your eyes and drownin’ in ’em might make me sound insincere.” 

  
“I have never claimed that you sound insincere, Mister McCree.”

  
“Boy.” Jesse leans forward in his chair, stabbing at his short stack. “You could eat me alive and I’d thank you for it.”

  
“Too much testosterone poorly affects the flavor of meat.”

 

“Are you sure? You're welcome to try.” 

 

Hanzo raises an eyebrow as he watched him over the rim of his cup. “I am tempted to retract my statement about your sincerity.” 

 

Jesse thinks about the urge he felt last night - to offer his throat to Hanzo and let him sink his teeth into it. He could blame it on the full moon but he knows better than that.

 

Despite eyeing every bite with the highest suspicion, Hanzo finishes his pancakes and the rest of the blueberries, as well as two cups of tea. Jesse, who is usually ravenous on the day after the full moon, finds it difficult to keep up when he gets distracted every two bites just by starting at Hanzo. 

 

He can only imagine what Reyes would have to say about that. 

 

“You awful busy today?” Jesse makes an attempt at pretending like his whole day or possibly the universe doesn’t hinge on Hanzo’s answer. 

 

“I am always busy.” 

 

“Yeah.” Jesse deflates. “Kinda figured.”

 

Hanzo carries his dishes to the sink and sets them within. “However,” he says with his back to Jesse, “as I had anticipated a more strenuous evening, I have taken this day for myself.”

 

A dog wouldn’t have perked up more at the rustling of a treat bag. “Oh yeah? The whole day?”

 

“I will not repeat myself; you heard me perfectly well.”

 

Jesse gets up and moves closer, slowly while Hanzo lets water run over the dishes. “The entire day, huh?” 

 

“Have you fallen on your -” Hanzo turns around and obviously startles at how close Jesse has gotten. 

 

“Just makin' sure,” Jesse says with a grin but only moves again when he sees Hanzo’s shoulders relax a bit. “And when you say you’ve taken it for yourself…”

 

“I mean it.” 

 

Jesse clasps one hand over his heart and sighs. “Right in the heart, Shimada. How cruel!” 

 

“Unless you are finally willing to fight me,” Hanzo says, perfectly casual. “We could go back to the dojo.”

 

“I had something a little less violent in mind.” He’s close enough now to put a hand on Hanzo’s hip and he lets him. 

 

“Is that so?” 

 

“Sure is.” He grins. “Still haven’t taken that kiss you owe me eith-”

 

Hanzo grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls him down. The kiss is hard, without any give, and when Jesse tries to gentle it Hanzo pulls back with a  _ laugh _ . Dry, short laughter that he hides against the back of his hand.

 

“Well!” If Jesse had his hat on, he’d tip it. “Now that’s two you’ve got from me! Seems mighty unfair to me.”

 

“Perhaps you should take what you desire instead of talking about it. Incessantly.”

 

Jesse nearly says something right back, but figures: to hell with it. He tilts Hanzo’s chin up like any romantic hero ought, and kisses him real soft. Hanzo grunts, but Jesse won’t be deterred; he cups Hanzo’s jaw with a metal palm and presses him up against the counter. 

 

Hanzo isn’t the yielding type, even in this. But he told Jesse to take and Jesse intends to do just that. One hand slides into his hair and one to the small of his back, and Hanzo finally melts. He leans against him and sighs. And when Jesse licks into his mouth, he grabs the front of his shirt to pull him even closer. 

 

When he pulls back, he finds Hanzo’s face flushed and his eyes dark as he looks up at him. The expression on his face feels like a punch to the gut. 

 

“Better,” Hanzo says, his voice as steady as ever, but his eyes keeping flicking back to Jesse’s mouth. 

 

“You’re a bossy one,” Jesse says, fully aware of how goddamn fond he sounds. 

 

“And you still talk too much.” 

  
There might be some truth to that, at least for now, so Jesse leans back in to kiss him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D 
> 
> all your comments and kudos mean everything in the world. tasty, tasty writers' fuel. you guys are amazing and i love u. -B


	5. Chapter 5

When he finally checks his phone, Hanzo’s in the shower for the second time. Jesse’s scrounging around in the pocket of his jeans for his wallet so he can order something for delivery, patently against leaving the apartment now that he’s finally got Hanzo here.

 

Twelve texts and a missed call from Reyes. He grimaces. Normally, Jesse can only manage enough gumption to ignore the first. 

 

Each one radiates stronger and stronger irritation at Jesse’s negligence, all in Spanish. Jesse heaves a sigh and writes back a brief full moon report. 

 

_ No damage done. Citizens unterrorized. Slept late. _

 

He stops himself short of adding something a little less professional at the end for all of Reyes’ shit-talking, but he reminds himself that technically, he  _ is _ supposed to report the status of himself and his environment to his commanding officer. Even if he is a hard-ass.

 

Irritation gnaws at him. He’s not some young pup who turns into an unpredictable risk every month. But then again, neither was the wolf who destroyed half a village in Belgium last year. He gets why Reyes is on his ass like this. In theory. 

 

The phone in his hand buzzes and for one awful second, he fears that Reyes is calling him. He knows he won’t be able to ignore his calls any longer. But it’s only a text, brief and clearly still annoyed, telling him he’s going to call him tomorrow for a full report. 

 

Jesse curses under his breath. It’s impossible to keep something a secret from Reyes. He smells bullshit even from the other end of the world. 

 

“Bad news?” 

 

Jesse looks up to find Hanzo leaning against the door frame, arms folded. 

 

“Nah.” He puts the phone away with a promise to himself to forget about it for now. “Just work.” Jesse takes Hanzo in with an appreciative eye, and gets mild skepticism in return. “I gotta say, darlin’ - now that you’re fresh as a daisy, it just makes me wanna get you all dirty again.”

 

“Your insatiable appetite is less charming than you think,” Hanzo informs him. Jesse knows his scent now, though - he can smell interest all over him. “We missed lunch.”

 

Jesse grins, recalling exactly what they’d been up to around noon, and the winning combination of a flexible pair of legs and a sturdy table.. “Worth it.”

 

“Be that as it may,” Hanzo huffs, “you should not leave your guest hungry.”

 

Jesse lets his wiggling eyebrows illustrate exactly what he might say to that before he waves his wallet. “Call up your favorite place. Whatever you like - my treat.”

 

“How generous,” Hanzo says dryly, but doesn’t stop when Jesse moves to crowd him against the door frame for a kiss. He gently but firmly pushes him back before it can turn into anything more, however, and snatches the wallet from Jesse’s hand. 

 

While Hanzo makes the call, Jesse ducks into the bathroom to take a quick shower himself. When he looks into the mirror, he sees that there are two angry marks on the side of his neck and more further along the slope of his shoulder and down his chest. He touches one of them, the memory of Hanzo worrying it into his skin with his teeth washing over him and going straight to his dick. 

 

He’s pretty sure he keeps the shower under three minutes, eager to get back to Hanzo. He really needs a bigger shower, even if just for the purpose of sucking Hanzo off inside. Which is honestly a good enough reason for anything. 

 

“That was quick,” Hanzo comments when he gets out of the bathroom. 

 

“Didn’t want to leave you alone for too long,” Jesse says and presses a kiss to his temple. 

 

Hanzo leans into him for a moment. “Please. Do not neglect your personal hygiene on my account.” 

 

“Hey!” He lifts his arm and sniffs. “I smell just fine.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Matter of fact, so do you.” Jesse ducks down to take a deep (mostly) exaggerated sniff at his neck. “Yep. _Mighty_ fine.”

 

“The food will arrive within the half hour.” 

 

“Plenty of time,” Jesse says, tasting the faintest herbal hint of his soap on Hanzo’s skin. Hanzo sighs against him, not at all put out. 

 

“For what?”

 

“Lots of things. I can think of a few right off the top of my head that start and end with me on my knees.”

 

“Is that what happens when I leave you alone for a few minutes? You get ideas?” 

 

Jesse nips at Hanzo’s earlobe and enjoys hearing his breath hitch. “Darlin’, I get all kinds of ideas just from looking at you.” 

 

The rumble of Hanzo’s laughter is low and runs straight through Jesse. “Really?” 

 

“Hmm.” He snakes his arms around Hanzo to pull him close, running them down his spine until he can cup his ass just like wanted to last night. It gets him more laughter, a bit more breathless now. 

 

The scent of Hanzo’s arousal is sharp and difficult to ignore once he’s caught it, mixing in with his own. It makes him growl, even without the full moon. 

 

Hanzo‘s fingers - blunt nails and all - dig into the meat of Jesse’s back as Jesse squeezes his ass and kisses him deep. He probably shouldn’t cling to Hanzo like this - ought to treat him with a little more finesse, a little more class. But all Jesse wants to do is drag him back to the bedroom, so thick with their scents, and keep him there forever. 

 

It’s a damn creepy thought, so Jesse pulls back a bit. He gives Hanzo‘s ass one last fond squeeze before he moves his hands to safer pastures. 

 

There’s something surreal about having Hanzo here, pressed up against the kitchen sink of his little Hanamura safehouse. A part of Jesse’s been pining over him for what feels like ages. He’s coaxed more laughter out of that pretty mouth in the past day than he has all month, and now Jesse knows the shape and heft and taste of his cock. That’s a feat worth celebrating.

 

He lets him get to know it even better, on his knees in front of him, with Hanzo’s fingers tangled in his hair. He can’t stop looking up at his face, flushed and panting and so goddamn pretty he’d paint it if he had any talent. It’s a shame he stifles his own moan with one hand when he comes, bucking into Jesse’s mouth. 

 

Jesse sucks him clean and places a little kiss on his hipbone before sitting back on his heels. He wipes at the corner of his mouth and smiles. “You’re allowed to make some noise, y'know?” 

 

Wouldn’t be much of a safehouse with a bunch of neighbors around but he doesn’t say that out loud. 

 

“You are loud enough for both of us,” Hanzo says but extends a hand to help him up. 

 

Jesse laughs and leans in for a kiss even though Hanzo makes a face at the taste of himself on Jesse’s tongue. 

 

He gets his mouth on Hanzo’s neck, grinding against Hanzo’s hard stomach when the doorbell buzzes. Jesse whines, clutching Hanzo a little closer, betrayed.

 

“You said half an -!”

 

“ _ Within _ half an hour.” Hanzo extricates himself from Jesse’s grip and leaves him there for the front door, cold and lonely. Jesse gives himself a squeeze - he’s still in his goddamn pants! The inhumanity of the whole thing is breaking his heart. 

 

Hanzo comes with a plastic bag in his hand and raises an eyebrow. “Do not look at me like I kicked a puppy.” 

 

“Feels like it.” He follows Hanzo to the kitchen counter. He’s not even that hungry anymore - not now with the possibility of getting Hanzo naked. That's a different kind of hunger. But Hanzo seems undeterred, carefully unpacking the bag on the counter. 

 

Even when Jesse wraps his arms around him and presses up against his backside, he only clicks his tongue. “Food first,” he says, completely unfazed by Jesse’s hard-on or the teeth gently nipping at the side of his neck. 

 

“We can warm it up later.”

 

Hanzo doesn’t even deign to respond to that. He slinks out of Jesse’s arms and gets two plates out of the cupboard. “Stop pouting. You were the one who could not wait.” He gives him a small, innocent smile. “I might make it up to you later.” 

 

“Might? Now hold on. What’s that supposed to mean?” 

 

Hanzo laughs, patting his shoulder on his way to the table. 

 

Jesse’s lost his appetite for anything but Hanzo.

 

At least, that’s what he tells himself right before his stomach growls louder than the wolf ever has. Hanzo doesn’t say a word, but his eyebrows speak volumes.

 

Jesse sighs a deep, bone-weary sigh and drops down into the chair across from Hanzo, resigning himself to a sexually frustrated life.

  
Or if he’s very, very lucky, just a sexually frustrated lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mywordsflyup is on a tiny roadtrip atm so she won't catch me doing Irresponsible Things like potentially giving myself food poisoning or posting this sneaky sneak tiny midweek chapter until it's far too late. i feel so alive right now. hope y'all enjoyed! -B


	6. Chapter 6

Hanzo refuses to stay the night. Fortunately, that’s only on account of Jesse’s dearth of toothbrushes and work attire - not because he’s had his fill of Jesse or nothing. In fact, Jesse is cordially invited to follow Hanzo home.

 

The eager wolf under Jesse’s skin buzzes with the urge to scent Hanzo’s space until it’s indistinguishable from McCree’s.

 

Wisely, he doesn’t vocalize this to Hanzo, who... probably already suspects.

 

By the time they leave Jesse’s place, it’s already dark outside, the moon just rising over the rooftops. The night after a full moon is always a little strange. There’s no overwhelming pull, no danger, but the moonlight on his skin still makes him feel a little restless. It’s not a bad feeling, far from it.

 

His senses are still heightened and he has to stop himself from losing himself in Hanzo’s scent. It’s so easy to pick out, even over the smells of the town while just walking next to him. The air smells clean and a little heavy, like after a short downpour, but he’d still rather bury his nose in the crook of Hanzo’s neck. The streets are nearly empty - or maybe Hanzo just knows the best route to avoid unnecessary attention.

 

Jesse anticipates that Hanzo will lead him to some some small apartment, classy and compact to suit a single tidy bachelor like himself. Maybe even a loft over the noodle shop for ease and efficiency. So he‘s sort of befuddled when Hanzo leads him back to the temple-cum-dojo.

 

He’s even more surprised when Hanzo draws him further in down a long hallway of paper doors.

 

A few doors at the end are heavier than the rest, solid wood, and Hamzo pulls a key from somewhere on his person and unlocks it. The room within is as big as Jesse’s entire apartment, and just as sparsely personalized. A wide futon covers a decent portion of the floor with a deep blue duvet folded neatly at the foot. A wardrobe towers in a far corner beside a tidy desk.

 

Sleek, modern, everything in rich earth tones and totally, completely saturated in Hanzo’s scent.

 

“Huh,” Jesse says, a little lost in the doorway. “This isn't what I expected.”

 

“I thought as much.” Hanzo moves with the ease of someone who’s finally back in his own territory.

 

Jesse takes a step forward. “I have to say, I feel a little bad now takin' you to my place when all this was just around the corner.”

 

Hanzo snorts. “Perhaps I was curious.”

 

“To see how the other half lives?” Jesse asks with a little grin, stepping a little closer. He’s only teasing but Hanzo frowns a little and moves out of his reach with a small shrug.

 

“My family has always lived here,” he says. And then, more to himself than to Jesse, “It is nothing.”

 

Jesse’s pretty sure it’s the first time he’s mentioned his family at all and for a moment he feels a little sheepish that he never asked. But something about the way Hanzo squares his shoulders makes him think that maybe it’s not the worst thing that he didn’t.

 

A part of him wants to make a joke about the wage of the average noodle shop entrepreneur, but instead of putting his foot in it, he chances moving a little closer to Hanzo.

 

“Smells like you,” he hums, pressing a few fingers to the small of Hanzo’s back. Hanzo clicks his tongue.

 

“Never before have I met a man who thinks so predominately with his nose.”

 

“I know a couple,” Jesse drawls, kicking the door closed behind him and nudging at the nape of Hanzo’s neck with his nose. “My boss, for one. See, he’s got a mate that molts about once a year. Caught him a couple times playing with some feathers at his desk - musta smelled real nice to him, way he was actin’." Jesse snorts. "If he knew I told any living soul, I’d be a dead man. Then there’s this guy I know - he’s a bear, though, real old, but he’s got a sniffer like -”

 

“Do you always speak of other people at such lengths when you have your hands inside another man’s shirt?”

 

Jesse laughs, his thumb swiping over the skin of Hanzo’s back. “Only if he makes me real nervous.”

 

“Is that so? I would think after the day we had…” He trails off when Jesse presses a kiss on the side of his neck and slides his hand around his waist.

 

“Darlin’, I don’t think I could ever _not_ be nervous around you.”

 

Hanzo leans back against him, his hand moving to cover his as it pulls him closer. “Are you saying I will have to get used to you talking about other people while we are together?”

 

Jesse feels compelled to sink his teeth into the crook of Hanzo’s neck, so he does. It’s just the slightest bit of pressure but Hanzo shivers underneath his touch. “You could always make me stop talking altogether.”

 

“Such a thing is impossible,” Hanzo says, but guides him closer. He kisses and gets kissed and nearly starts backing Hanzo toward the futon when a hand presses against his chest to push him back.

 

“We have a bathhouse,” Hanzo tells him, his eyes flicking down to Jesse’s lips.

 

Huh.

 

“Read you loud and clear,” Jesse says. At least now it doesn’t matter all that much if Hanzo catches him with his tail out, wagging like it‘s paid to.

 

The bathhouse lives up to its name in that a couple of folks could probably live comfortably inside. It’s as big as Hanzo’s room, if not bigger, and decorated like a hot spring with rocks and potted ferns. A wide steaming pool lit from within by a blue glow dominates the room beyond a few shower spigots along the nearest wall to the door. Jesse whistles low when they step inside: Amazing what a bit of wealth can get you.

 

“To think I made you use that sad tiny shower of mine…”

 

Hanzo laughs lowly, but has no reply.

 

“I'm just sayin'…” The warmth of the bath house quickly makes wearing clothes unbearable and Jesse begins taking them off almost immediately. “That thing doesn’t even have enough room for both of us. You could fit an entire army in here.”

 

Hanzo, who only seems to get more comfortable in the heat, gives him a sly little smile. “Oh? Are we talking about other people again? Should we perhaps invite them?”

 

Jesse closes the distance between them with two quick steps and pulls Hanzo flush against his chest. “Now who’s being silly?” He kisses the crown of Hanzo’s head. “Besides, you’re enough to keep me busy all night by your lonesome.”

 

Hanzo snorts, freeing himself from Jesse’s arms, but now before placing a little kiss on the underside of his jaw. “I will try to take that as a compliment.”

 

“Well shucks, I meant it as one.”

 

To his surprise and delight, Hanzo crowds him up against the shower wall - warm and damp with condensation - the moment their clothes are off. He flips the knob almost as an afterthought. It’s cold at first, and Jesse yelps, clutching Hanzo a little closer.

 

They… don’t make it to the bath before Jesse falls to his knees for the second time that afternoon, sucking Hanzo off under the heat of that spray. He pulls away just just in time to let Hanzo paint his face in broad stripes before it’s rinsed away.

 

It’s enough to get himself off to with rough tugs, gasping into the crease of Hanzo’s thigh.

 

“Impatient,” Hanzo chides with a little smile and gently tugs at Jesse’s hair while he’s pressing lazy kisses on Hanzo’s hip.

 

“Don’t hear you complaining, though.” There’s a constellation of tiny moles on Hanzo’s left hip and Jesse can’t help but nip them, delighted with the sharp tug on his hair that it earns him.

 

When they finally let themselves sink into the bath, Jesse’s limbs feel heavy and boneless. He appreciates the warmth of the water but he appreciates Hanzo leaning against him with a little sigh even more. He curls an arm around him and kisses his temple before sinking a little deeper.

 

Jesse doesn’t know if it’s the familiarity of the bath or the warmth or the fact that Jesse sucked him off less than ten minutes ago, but he’s never seen Hanzo this relaxed. The usual tension in his shoulders is gone, his eyes sliding closed then and again and his head growing heavy against Jesse’s shoulder.

 

“Mm. Think I’ll change careers, Mister Shimada.”

 

Hanzo sinks a little further into the water. “Is that so.”

 

“Think I’ll be your kept boy, if it’s all the same to you,” Jesse says with a stretch. He can feel his toes pop under the water. Hanzo snorts.

 

“What will the cows do without you?”

 

“Beg your pardon?”

 

“You are a cowboy, are you not, McCree-san.”

 

He’s joking - Jesse can tell by the curve of his smirk. Mockery is a good look on him.

 

“Sure they would,” Jesse grunts, rolling his head back and forth. “Think you’d miss me more, though.”

 

Hanzo snorts again but only scoots a little closer. “You think very highly of yourself.”

 

“And you don’t?”

 

“Of you or of myself?”

 

Jesse laughs. “Now we’re getting into tricky territory.”

 

Hanzo doesn’t reply but holds on to Jesse’s shoulders as he moves to crowd him against the edge of the bath. He links his hands behind Jesse’s neck and presses himself flush against him. Jesse's mouth goes dry at the hot, slick slide of Hanzo's body against his. He kisses him, softly at first and then a little deeper.

 

Jesse pulls him close, his hands roaming along his back for a bit and even dipping underwater once or twice squeeze his ass. There’s no hurry or particular purpose to any of it, not even when Hanzo grinds against his thigh a couple of times. There’s something comfortably lazy about the way Hanzo runs his hands through Jesse’s hair and kisses him slow and deep, his body warm and pliant against him.

 

He’ll miss this, Jesse thinks- miss it as much as Hanzo’s scent and the flirting and the sounds he makes when Jesse sucks him off. It’s a dangerous thought - one that shouldn’t come to him when he finally has Hanzo in his arms. But it comes anyway.

 

Jesse’s no stranger to loving and leaving, as skeezy as it sounds to think it even in the privacy of his own head. It comes with the job, though; he’s always on the move. Can’t afford to think of Hanzo as more than one of the boys he has in every port (- alright, no more classic movies for him. He’s giving himself the willies now.), but…

 

But he does.

 

Can’t let himself get attached, but he knows, he _knows_ he is. He can feel it in the way his predator and Hanzo’s coil together. Monsters apart, but together they’re something else.

 

Hasn’t been here two months, and already it feels like years. He wants it to be years. He wants _Hanzo._

 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart,” he groans, nuzzling Hanzo’s clean-shaven jaw. “You gonna take me to that big ol’ bed of yours?”

 

“Futon,” Hanzo corrects him and sighs when Jesse starts worrying a little bruise on the side of his neck.

 

“As long as it’s big enough for both of us, you can call it whatever you want.”

 

The breath of Hanzo’s laughter brushes against his ear before he slowly pulls himself out of Jesse’s arms. Jesse has to fight the urge to grab him and pull him back in. “I think we can manage,” Hanzo says. His face is flushed and Jesse likes to think it’s not just from the heat of the bath. He can’t stop looking at his lips, red and a bit swollen, and the want hits him like a physical ache in his chest.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

The bed - futon - is none too comfortable, but maybe it’s the latent drain of the shift; maybe it’s the warm body pressed to him; maybe it’s the day full of orgasms; maybe it’s the scent of the dragon that might as well be permeating Jesse’s flesh all the way to his bones, but he falls dead asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

Turns out when he’s not spending the previous night corralling a werewolf high on the full moon shift, Hanzo rises with the sun. He leaves the circle of Jesse’s arms delicately, but that doesn’t stop Jesse from waking up feeling lost. He grabs lazily for Hanzo’s wrist, the question in his brain coming out as a noise whine-adjacent. Hanzo pulls himself free, though the gentle flick to Jesse’s forehead does settle him. More than he’s willing to admit.

 

He dozes, half-waking to the snick of a wardrobe opening and closing, the rustle of fabric, soft feet on the floor. When he opens his eyes, he finds Hanzo already fully dressed and in the process of pulling his dark hair back with a ribbon. Jesse watches him for a moment.

 

“You’re not just gonna sneak out and never call, are you?”

 

Hanzo turns his head, not the least surprised that Jesse’s awake. “I live here.”

 

“Oh, right,” Jesse says with a little wink and stretches. “I almost forgot you let me into your inner sanctum.”

 

Hanzo eyes him like he’s waiting for some lewd joke and Jesse’s almost tempted to give it to him but opts for throwing back the covers instead and reminding Hanzo that he’s currently the only one dressed.

 

Hanzo looks him over but doesn’t bite.

 

“Sure you don’t have a little bit more time? I’ll make it worth your while.”

 

“I am sure you would,” Hanzo says and Jesse can spot the amusement in his voice by now. “But some of us still have to work.”

 

“I work,” Jesse says, shaking his head in fake outrage. “And I know the shop doesn’t even open for hours yet!”

 

Hanzo clicks his tongue. “There is more to it than just cooking for the likes of you.”

 

“The likes of me?” Jesse pushes himself up into a sitting position and grins. “You mean there are other handsome werewolves in town who're crazy for your ramen and everything else you’re willing to offer?”

 

Hanzo doesn’t even deign to roll his eyes at that. “More men with black holes instead of stomachs.”

 

“Last I checked, you liked my holes,” McCree mumbles, scratching at his stubble.

 

Hanzo takes pity and throws him a little smile. “I have some fondness for the one keeping me in business.”

 

“Hah!” Jesse gives him the ol’ finger guns. “Knew you were sweet on me.”

 

Hanzo remains unimpressed. But then he sighs.

 

“Against my better judgment.”

 

If Jesse’s grin grows any wider, it’s liable to fly right off his face. “Hey,” he says, sitting up a little further. He leans forward, reaching out with his metal hand. “C’mere, sweetheart.” Hanzo raises a speculative brow, which sends Jesse’s damn fool insides all a-flutter. “Won’t keep you long. Cross my heart.”

 

Hanzo narrows his eyes, but approaches the futon. Jesse gets a hand around his wrist when he’s close and tugs him down on his knees to press his face just under Hanzo’s jaw. There’s a mark there that’ll show all day. He kisses it tenderly, knowing he’s bound to have a few himself. “I’m pretty fond of you too,” he mumbles, tugging at Hanzo’s ribbon like a pigtail. “But that was all on account ‘a my _best_ judgment.”

 

“Tch-ah,” Hanzo tuts, but the hand he rests on Jesse’s chest doesn’t push him away. His tone is just as hushed as Jesse’s when he sighs, “Will you join me for breakfast or go hungry while you sleep?”

 

“Give me a minute,” Jesse says and can’t resist kissing him one last time before letting him go. “I’ll put on some pants.”

 

“That would be preferable.”

 

Jesse accepts when Hanzo extents a hand to help him up. “Didn’t hear you complaining before.”

 

“You are a free man, Jesse McCree. You are welcome to stay like this all day if you desire,” Hanzo says with a little smile.

 

“My boss would kill me if I got arrested for something like that.” Jesse picks up his pants from the pair where he dropped them last night.

 

“Only if you got arrested for public indecency?”

 

“Probably not.” Jesse buttons his jeans and cocks his head. “Is there a way to kill someone twice? He’d find it.”

 

“He sounds charming,” Hanzo says dryly and hands him his shirt.

 

Jesse grins. “I think you’d like him. He’s a damn good cook.”

 

Hanzo watches him button up his shirt. “This is the same man you spoke of yesterday when you were attempting to seduce me.”

 

“Succeeding to seduce you,” Jesse corrects, rolling up his sleeves. “Yeah, that’s him.”

 

“For all you pretend to detest this man, you are filled with glowing praise for him.”

 

Jesse peeks up at Hanzo with a grimace. “Aw honey, if you’re gonna catch jealousy like a bad cold, the last person who deserves it is Reyes.”

 

He... probably shouldn’t be calling his C.O. by name while he‘s laying low, but hell, what’s done is done. At least Hanzo looks too insulted by the implication to have copped.

 

“I would not dishonor myself to be jealous of acquaintances of _yours_ , Jesse McCree,” he says with the stormiest glower this side of the blue.

 

“I think it’s sweet,” Jesse says and winks, which only deepens Hanzo’s scowl. “Completely unnecessary but sweet.”

 

Hanzo scoffs and turns around to leave the room. But he leaves the door open behind him, a sign Jesse decides to interpret as positive. He doesn’t really see Hanzo as the jealous type - he'd need less confidence for that. But then again, there are lots of parts of Hanzo he doesn’t know yet. Things he’s only gotten a glimpse at, if at all.

 

He follows Hanzo out into the hallway and then into a kitchen. The room is much smaller than Hanzo’s room but just as clean and organized. There’s no coffee but more tea, the sharp scent of it so familiar to him now.

 

“So what’s the story with this?” Jesse asks when Hanzo hands him a cup - partly because he’s genuinely curious but mostly just to see if the storm has passed.

 

Hanzo pours one for himself and moves around the tidy space in preparation.

 

“The story with what.”

 

“All this tea.”

 

Hanzo squints at him. “I like tea,” he answers, measuring out a heaping cup of rice from a bag into what Jesse can only assume is a rice cooker. “What is the story with your inane questions.”

 

“Well shoot, honey, I like inane questions.” He sidles up to Hanzo and nudges the back of Hanzo’s neck with his nose. “You smell like it though. More’n what’s normal. It ain’t just on you, like sweat or soap. It’s a part of your scent way down deep.” He breathes a long inhale just to punctuate his point. “I’d drink you up if I could.”

 

Hanzo stiffens for a second but he doesn’t pull back. “I would prefer if you did not.”

 

“No promises.” He places a small kiss on the back of Hanzo’s neck before giving him his space again and taking a sip of his tea instead.

 

There’s a longer stretch of silence during which Hanzo doesn’t look at him but focuses on making food. It’s not really uncomfortable but there’s a certain tension in the line of Hanzo’s shoulders that is worrying.

 

Just when Jesse is about to break the silence, probably with more inane questions, Hanzo speaks. “I drink it every morning,” he says. “The tea.”

 

That much is obvious but Jesse bites his tongue, waiting for him to continue.

 

“My mother used to make it for my brother and myself when we were young.” Hanzo cracks an egg into a pan and pushes it aside with a spatula to add another. “I was… an undisciplined child. Genji was uncontrollable, but the tea helped us both.”

 

“Genji?”

 

Hanzo shoots him a sideways look and hesitates for a second. “My brother.”

 

Jesse knows this is eggshell territory, and he’s got his boots on.

 

“Alright,” he drawls, taking another sip. “So you’re a responsible adult.”

 

When the rice cooker beeps, Hanzo spoons mounds of white rice into a bowl and begins working something into it that Jesse can’t see behind his back. It has to scald, but Hanzo doesn’t flinch. Jesse can smell saltwater and pickled cabbage as Hanzo works away.

 

Jesse’s finished his cup and feels pleasantly warm when Hanzo finally speaks. “It should not be necessary.”

 

“Shit, neither is waking at dawn to take care of your own small business, but you do it anyway.” Jesse clinks a metal finger against the side of his mug. “‘Cause that’s a shot you can call, and it’s the best one you could figure. A good, responsible one.”

 

“An adult should not lack the control -” Hanzo starts, and stops himself with a click of his tongue. Jesse’s probably smashed all those eggshells to bits now.

 

Aw hell. In for a penny. Jesse leaves his mug on the table and draws a little closer. Everything in him wants to wrap around Hanzo, draw whatever’s going on in that pretty head out into the open so Jesse can - he doesn’t know. Fight it? Eat it? Take it from Hanzo so he doesn’t have to stand so stiff in his own kitchen.

 

He stands beside Hanzo instead, close enough to bump elbows while Hanzo molds perfectly shaped rice balls with his bare hands.

 

“However you are, however you see it,” Jesse says, nudging his elbow, “I’ve never seen anyone with better damn control than you. If this is about anger in the form of all them pretty scales and talons, then you should know I’ve never met anyone with better control.” He huffs, bending his whole body to knock his forehead to Hanzo’s shoulder. “I couldn’t even smell _you_ in there under all this skin until a couple days ago, and my nose ain’t nothin’ to sneeze at.”

 

Hanzo exhales and there’s just the slightest bit of give, just a little less tension in those shoulders. “Years of training,” he says.

 

“You say that as if it’s nothing to be proud of.”

 

“And you speak as though it is.”

 

“Hey.” He knows it’s bold, perhaps even too much, but Jesse put his hand on Hanzo’s shoulder and forces him to turn around to look at him. Hanzo averts his eyes, his face closed off. “I don’t know where you got this idea but no one’s that good without training. This thing that we do, keeping the scales and the fur and the instincts under control even when everything in our nature tells us not to, that doesn’t come naturally to anyone.”

 

“To some it does.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Hanzo blinks and finally looks at him.

 

“Watch your mouth in my kitchen,” he says, narrowing his eyes. Jesse narrows his back.

 

“Think I’d rather watch yours.”

 

Hanzo’s hands are sticky with rice and they reek of pickled cabbage, but Jesse kind of wishes they were on him right now. He thinks Hanzo probably does too. Jesse meets him glare for glare before he leans in real close and kisses the tip of Hanzo’s nose.

 

“See now,” he says with a wink, “most dragons wouldn’t let me plant one on their nose.”

 

“I am still considering devouring you whole,” Hanzo tells him drily, ducking away to finish forming the rice balls. Jesse lets out a little hoot.

 

“Don’t make promises y’ ain’t gonna keep, honey!”

 

“I am sorely tempted.”

 

While Jesse wouldn’t consider himself to be a particularly picky eater (most werewolves aren’t), Japanese breakfast was still a little strange to him. Sharing it with Hanzo, however, makes it a whole lot better.

 

It feels real domestic - something Jesse never thought he’d ever connect with a warm pleasant feeling in his chest. If it didn’t feel so much like pushing his luck, he’d tell Hanzo.

 

He seems better now, broken eggshells and all, and even smirks at some of Jesse’s jokes. But Jesse doesn’t miss the fact that he drinks two more cups of tea before they leave the house, the scent of it strong and fresh on his skin.

 

“Do you intend to follow me all day?” Hanzo asks as they walk toward the ramen shop.

 

“I know how much you’d like that,” Jesse sighs. “Unfortunately I promised my boss a call.”

 

“Unfortunately.”

 

“Still have time to walk you to work, though.”

 

Hanzo doesn’t say anything but Jesse sees the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

 

He doesn’t kiss Hanzo at the door to the shop or anything - if he doesn’t know if they’re there yet, he _definitely_ doesn’t know how Hanzo feels about it. But he does snag Hanzo around the wrist only to slip his hand down to squeeze his palm before he backs away. “I’ll see you later,” he says, tipping his hat. Hanzo turns up his nose like he isn’t fighting a smile.

 

“So be it.”

  
Jesse blows a kiss and turns away before Hanzo can, strolling back to his apartment with a spring in his step.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's chapter's a little short, but the next one's gonna be a long sucker that finally gets the ball rolling. I'll post it a bit earlier than normal. Also I love you. -B

Reyes isn’t pleased. But when the hell is he?

 

Jesse leans back in his chair, eyes rolled up to the ceiling as his C.O. chews him out. Can’t lie, though - at the heart of it, it’s nice to hear his mother’s tongue spoken when he can’t escape the Japanese language but for a pinch of English. Much like his mama too, Reyes has plenty to say to him when he’s mad. 

 

He doesn’t ever cut the irritation off, Jesse doesn’t think, but he does let it settle down to a simmer when he’s got real actual news to pass along. Or maybe Morrison walked into the room - can’t really tell through the phone, way he’s pulled it away from his ear.

 

“The bureaucrats are finally getting their shit together,” Reyes sighs. “I can send along as many reports as I like, but they didn’t get the jump on it until Jack -”

 

“Flashed his baby blues?” Jesse pops the cap on some fruity Japanese soda bottle and smirks when Reyes growls over the line.

 

“Best case scenario, you’ll stay out of my hair on the company dime for another month,” Reyes says. “Realistically though? I’ll have you working your ass off again in the next few weeks.”

 

“Huh.” 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

 

“Nothing, nothing!” Jesse puts the bottle back on the table in front of him, the pit in his throat suddenly to big to take a sip. Instead, he begins to peel off the label with the nail of his thumb. “Nothing.”

 

“Yeah, might have believed you with one. What’s going on?”

 

Jesse opens his mouth, the “nada” already on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it back down. “Just didn’t expect it to come through so quickly.” 

 

He can hear Reyes’ hoarse laugh through the phone. “So what? You’re starting to enjoy the vacation? 

 

“It’s not a vacation.”

 

“Then why are you getting lazy?” 

 

Jesse sighs. The adhesive from the label's like a slimy film on his fingertips. “Forget it.”

 

“Jesse,” Reyes says and there’s an almost painful twinge in Jesse’s stomach. Reyes only falls back on his first name when he’s getting serious. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t spend another full moon by yourself at the ass end of nowhere.”

 

“I’m not…” Jesse stops himself just in time. “... at the ass end of nowhere.”

 

There’s silence at the other end of the line, which is never a good sign when it comes to Reyes. “Something’s up with you, kid. And whatever it is, I’m sure I won’t like it.”

 

“Wow,” Jesse says, that old sense of defiance creeping back up. “Thanks for the confidence.”

 

“You can expect to get something else from me if you don’t drop the attitude.” 

 

Leaning back in his seat, Jesse grins up at the ceiling. “Yessir, sorry sir,” he says, switching to English. Reyes doesn’t rise to the bait, clacking away at his computer something fierce.

 

“Whatever it is, sort it out in the next couple weeks, cabrón.” 

 

He’s switched to English too. Mostly. Jesse’s grin widens.

 

“Jack come in? Tell him I said -”

 

“Reyes out,” and the line goes dead. Jesse laughs quietly to himself alone in the kitchen and takes a long drink of his soda. 

 

“Sort it out,” he sighs, rubbing at his eyes. He doesn’t want to sort anything out - not the way Reyes means it. He doesn’t know how to explain it to himself, much less to his commanding officer. Doesn’t know how he got so damn attached so quickly. This hasn’t been a problem before, shouldn’t be a problem now, but… 

 

He can still smell Hanzo on his skin, his clothes, his sheets, and it’s  _ good. _

 

He could just make the most of however much time they have left. And God knows if Hanzo won’t be sick of him at the end of it anyway. It would hardly be the first time. 

 

But that thought alone is enough to form a little ball of cold dread in his stomach. 

 

_ Shit.  _

 

He’s not one to dwell on things. Especially not when they lead him down dangerous paths to doors that should never ever be opened. 

 

He takes another sip of his soda and makes a face at the sweetness of it before pushing back his chair and getting up. The thought of washing off Hanzo’s scent and putting on fresh clothes isn’t really appealing to him but he knows Hanzo would be able to tell immediately if he doesn’t take a shower. 

 

Afterwards, he’s clean but irritation nestles in his chest. Every trace of Hanzo is gone from his skin. He wonders if it’s possible to permanently take on someone else’s scent. That some part of them would never quite leave. 

 

Now _ that’s _ a creepy thought he’d better push down deep. 

 

When he steps into the bedroom, the lingering scent from his sheets is almost enough to throw himself onto the bed and bury his face in them. But if he’s honest, he’d rather leave early and get back to the real thing as soon as possible. 

 

Jesse doesn’t know how he‘s supposed to sort out this new thing he’s got himself into when there ain’t a part of him that wants _out._ How’s he supposed to tell Reyes that he‘s gone and gotten himself caught up by a dragon after one month in Japan? Hell, how’s he supposed to tell the dragon?

 

’Cause he is attached. Jesse McCree’s got it bad for a man he’s known all of one moon cycle. In theory, it‘s nothing he can‘t cut off at a moment’s notice, chalk it up to a good time and leave it at that. So naturally his problem’s that he just doesn’t want to.

 

Stories about werewolves finding their forever-mates at first sniff is Hollywood horseshit at its finest. Mateship’s serious business - only fairy tales feed that first-whiff nonsense to the masses. Scent  _ does _ play its role with body chemistry and endorphins, but it takes time and trust to find companionship in someone else deep enough to settle into your bones. The mate bond ain’t a whim, and it doesn’t form in a goddamn month.

 

Reyes and Morrison had spent years as brothers-in-arms, hunkered in foxholes and pumping themselves fulla super soldier serum to admit even to each other that they could entertain that chemistry between them. But shit, even then they built a world-changing organization from the ground up and pulled Jesse’s fool ass from under the boot of the law before Reyes finally signed their Mateship documents.

 

They’re never stationed apart without extensive waivers and conditions, which covers the prettiest part of the legal process; as for interpersonal, Jesse can only differentiate their scents when Jack spreads those great white wings of his. Reyes is a smug bastard about it, like it ain’t the same for him. 

 

But that was a bond built upon  _ years _ of hard work and dedication and long, grueling hours spent fighting and surviving in each others’ company. What Mateship ought to be. This tenuous bridge Jesse’s built outta toothpicks and a prayer can’t even be compared.

 

And yet.

 

It’s almost embarrassing, the way his mind wanders to these silly fantasies. Just flashes of them, images of him and Hanzo and a life that only exists in snippets. Making plans for something that’ll probably never be. 

  
He sighs and drowns that dangerous spark of excitement in his stomach with a whole bunch of guilt and the last of his soda. 


	8. Chapter 8

Jesse’s pretty decent at pushing down his worries and qualms when he has to - according to Reyes, it's one of the reasons why he 'excelled at being such a shithead criminal' for so long. “Excelled” might have been an exaggeration but he had a point.

 

By the time Jesse makes his way to the ramen shop, he’s already decided not to dwell on the whole matter any longer. At least for now. There’s no point in getting excited or worried about something like this when he still has some time left to enjoy it for what it is now.

 

A little voice in the back of his mind whispers that he’s just trying to avoid talking to Hanzo about it. That he’s just afraid of his reaction. But he shuts that one up real quick too.

 

He’s missed rush hour at the shop and when he opens the front door, there’s only one other patron at one of the tables in the back. The air is heavy with the scent of food and different werebeasts but he picks up Hanzo’s as soon as he’s stepped through the door.

 

Still, Hanzo’s nowhere to be seen. Probably in the back somewhere,  Jesse figures, and wanders over to take his usual seat at the bar.

 

He can feel eyes on him, which isn’t too strange - he gets plenty of looks from folk around here, being a foreigner and all. The cowboy hat’s at least partly to blame, so he turns and tips it at the stranger before he takes it off.

 

“A real cowboy,” the man says in heavily accented English, propping his chin on a hand. His eyebrows are even more impressive than Hanzo’s, and _that’s_ a feat worthy of recognition. Jesse dips his chin.

 

“The genuine article.”

 

The man eyes the marks on Jesse’s neck briefly, the corners of his lips twitching. He ain’t human, Jesse can tell. Smells kind of like Hanzo in some sorta way, though it’s nearly impossible to pinpoint with all the other scents in the room. Further investigation halts the second Hanzo steps back into the room, looking… almost surprised to see Jesse there.

 

He stops in the door frame, his eyes flicking back and forth between Jesse and the other man before he narrows them slightly. He doesn’t just look surprised, Jesse realizes. He looks unnerved, almost irritated. Something about it makes the back of Jesse’s neck tingle.

 

“Hey,” he says, mostly because Hanzo isn’t saying anything.

 

“You are early,” Hanzo finally says and steps up to the counter, grabbing a rag to wipe down the already clean counter top.

 

Jesse raises an eyebrow. He’s been gone for hours, a lot longer than he originally intended to. But something must have happened. The tension in the room is almost palpable.

 

“Busy day?” he asks carefully.

 

“Not particularly.”

 

Jesse still doesn’t think they’re at the point where he can just kiss Hanzo or hold his hand in public, especially not when he can still feel the stranger’s eyes on him, but it’s difficult not to just reach over the counter and grab him. To take that stupid rag out of his hands and rub the tension out of his shoulders.

 

Maybe he’s committed some Japanese faux-pas, he thinks, brow furrowed. Was he supposed to text him? Give him space? Jesse did tell him he’d be by…

 

“You are well-acquainted,” the stranger says brightly, standing up from his chair and dropping into the seat beside Jesse. “Hanzo! Introduce us!”

 

Hanzo narrows his eyes at the stranger before he lowers them. Looks at his hands. Looks up at Jesse. “McCree, this is my brother. Genji, this is… Jesse McCree.”

 

Jesse can feel his eyebrows shaking hands with his hairline. “Speak of the devil!” he says, reaching over a little awkwardly to shake Genji’s hand. Genji smiles back, though he looks a little confused.

 

“The devil?”

 

“Aw, it’s just a sayin’. Means you talk about someone and they’re likely to show up.”

 

Genji looks over at Hanzo, who is looking anywhere but back at them. “You were speaking of me?”

 

“In passing,” Hanzo mutters.

 

“Only good things,” Jesse says. Technically, it’s not a lie. Enough people have called him hot-headed for him to appreciate the word.

 

“That would be a first,” Genji says but his tone his almost jovial, despite the way Hanzo clenches his jaw and furiously wipes at some invisible spot of the counter.

 

The tension is so thick in the air, Jesse can almost taste it. He’s seen it before, smelled it. Like when two rival beasts meet, circling each other until one is ready to snap. This is different. It’s not hatred but something else that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

 

Jesse turns to Genji, every fiber of him yearning to defuse the situation. Despite Hanzo’s demeanor however, Genji doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. He grins at Jesse and clasps a firm hand on his shoulder (which does nothing to dissipate Hanzo’s stormy expression).

 

“I have been away for some time,” he says, giving Jesse a little shake before he drops both elbows to the bar and leans forward. “And I arrived without warning. My brother does not care for surprises.”

 

Hanzo says something in Japanese that makes Genji snort before he glances up at them both. “It is not a poor surprise,” he says firmly. “My brother has returned home.”

 

“For now,” Genji says airily, tapping on the bar. He jumps suddenly, slipping a phone from his pocket. The deep, resonant bells of the tone stop when he checks his messages, and not a moment later he stands. Hanzo watches with a frown.

 

“You are leaving?”

 

“We will be at the house tonight,” Genji says, saluting with his phone. Then he smiles at Jesse. “I imagine I will be seeing you there as well?”

 

Hanzo bites something at him that Jesse doesn’t understand, but Genji just snickers and walks out with his hands in his pockets. Jesse whistles long and low, watching him out the window until he disappears. “You two’re quite the pair.”

 

Hanzo takes a moment before he looks away from the spot where Genji sat just a few seconds ago. “We were never much alike.”

 

“Scent’s pretty similar, though,” Jesse says. Hanzo shoots him a dirty look. “Yours is nicer, of course.”

 

“I do not need your flattery.”

 

“Ain't flattery. Just the truth.”

 

Hanzo takes a deep shaky breath and unclenches his jaw. It takes effort, Jesse realizes. He’s forcing himself to relax. “Genji was gone for a long time,” he finally says. “His arrival surprised me. That is all.”

 

Jesse reaches across the counter, not putting his hand of Hanzo’s but close - an invitation if he chooses to take it. “You know I don’t need convincing, right?”

  

Hanzo looks at him, his face unreadable, but he covers Jesse hand with his briefly before pulling away and turning towards the stove.

 

“So tell me this, Shimada-san,” he says, leaning in with a slow smile. “Been wondering for awhile now, and I think i just got the perfect opportunity. What gave me away? Think Genji could smell you on me?”

 

He doesn’t think he‘s ever seen Hanzo look so offended. Begrudgingly, as though Jesse has pried it out of him, he says, “A visual observation is more likely.” He turns his head toward the wall and Jesse catches sight of the marks on his skin - remembers that he’s got plenty of his own. Hanzo grimaces. “But perhaps he could also... catch the scent.”

 

Jesse likes that - likes knowing that other people can smell him on Hanzo, and Hanzo on him. Hanzo catches sight of whatever goofy look is on Jesse’s face and glowers.

 

“You are far too pleased about this.”

 

Jesse doesn’t think that upward tick of the corners of Hanzo’s lips are a trick of the mind. He shows his teeth with his next smile. “’Course I am, sugar. Any wolf would be.”

 

He wants to get behind the counter and get more of it, make sure his fresh clothes smell just as much of Hanzo as his old ones did. Maybe leave a few more marks on that pretty neck of his.

 

He doesn’t. But he sure thinks about it.

 

Hanzo looks at him as if he just said something horribly inappropriate out loud and Jesse can’t help but wonder how good a dragon’s nose really is.

 

“You must be hungry,” Hanzo says, already moving to pull ingredients from the shelves.

 

Jesse leans forward and rests his elbows on the counter. “For a lot of things.”

 

Hanzo rolls his eyes and pulls an especially big knife out of the block. “I can offer you ramen.”

 

“It’ll do,” Jesse says with a theatrical sigh. “For now.”

 

There are extra spring onions in his broth today, just how he likes it. Jesse doesn’t let himself think about how much he’s gonna miss this.

  
  
  
  


 

 

If the afternoon was any indication, occupying the same space as Hanzo with his brother is bound to be moderately-to-extremely uncomfortable tonight, so Jesse woefully foregoes the bathhouse in his future plans and showers at home. He spruces himself up a little, combs his hair, throws on his best plaid, brushes his teeth twice before heading out to pick Hanzo up.

 

There are high-school-prom butterflies in his belly at the thought of walking Hanzo home.

 

The shop is already dark when he gets there but the front door is still unlocked. Hanzo is inspecting some boxes in front of the counter but looks up when he hears the door slide open.

 

Someone who’s worked all day behind a stove oven shouldn’t look this calm and attractive, Jesse thinks. Despite that little scene this afternoon, he doesn’t seem more tense than usual and even has a smile to spare for Jesse when he sees him.

 

“A late delivery,” he explains when Jesse eyes the boxes. “Let me put these in the storeroom and we can go.”

 

“I’ll give you a hand,” Jesse says and lifts two of the boxes before Hanzo can protest.

 

He’s never been in the back of the store, even though he’s seen Hanzo and other employees hop in and out all the time. It’s crammed, filled with boxes, shelves and refrigerators, but just as clean and organized as the rest of the shop. A recurring theme with Hanzo, it seems. Even these new boxes have a specific place on top of the shelves in the back and under Hanzo’s direction, Jesse lifts them up there one by one.

 

There’s a joke in there somewhere about Jesse taking orders but he contents himself with a low chuckle and stealing a kiss from Hanzo as soon as the last box is stored away. In the privacy of the storeroom, he dares to pull him close and after a second of surprise, he can feel Hanzo smiling against his lips.

 

“This is my place of work,” Hanzo murmurs; Jesse takes Hanzo's hands and folds them behind his back so that his arms are wrapped around Jesse's waist.

  
“Kinda naughty, ain’t it.” Jesse nudges Hanzo’s nose with his before he kisses him again. Hanzo hums, his arms tightening only slightly. His brow furrows and he leans down further, deepening his kiss. He nips his way into Hanzo’s mouth and he wants Hanzo to remember this, here, the splay of Jesse’s palm to his spine, the taste of him in the dark of his store room even after he’s long gone.

 

Hanzo laughs quietly, breaking the kiss. Undeterred, Jesse moves his kisses down Hanzo’s jawline to the soft skin below his ear.

 

“You are impatient today,” Hanzo murmurs and Jesse grins at his sharp intake of breath when he nips his earlobe. “Even more so than usual.”

 

“Maybe I just missed you.” Jesse noses at the side of Hanzo’s neck. Even under the smell of sweat and spices, he can still catch Hanzo’s scent. He’s not even a little embarrassed about the growl that builds in his throat. “How do you still smell so good?”

 

Another quiet laugh. “Are you sure you are not just smelling the pork? I recall you are fond of it.”

 

“You don’t think I can tell the difference? I have an _excellent_ sense of smell.”

 

Hanzo’s hands wander to press against his chest, tragically insistent in pushing him away. “Do you know who else has an excellent sense of smell?” He looks up at Jesse, his eyes wide and dark. “The people who eat here.”

 

Oh.

 

Jesse’s not even going to be pretend. He’d be happy to go down to his knees right there and then, but Hanzo’s right. It wouldn’t take a werewolf’s nose to detect the smell of sex in the air.

 

“Let me take you home, then.”

 

Hanzo laughs, even when Jesse leans in and steals one last kiss before stepping away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jesse offers his arm when they find their matching pace, and Hanzo scoffs, batting at Jesse’s elbow with the back of his hand. Still, he does nudge Jesse’s wrist with his fingertips; he takes the hint straightaway, snatching Hanzo’s hand right up.

 

“What do you do?” Hanzo asks, apropos of nothing in the middle of their quiet stroll. Jesse clears his throat in a bid for time. It’s not like he was keeping his identity secret. Guess Hanzo never Googled him. Probably for the best; there ain’t exactly motivational posters of any sorry ass from Blackwatch.

 

“Kinda sorta confidential,” he tries, scratching at his scruff. “Government work, I guess you could say.”

 

“I see.”

 

He sounds skeptical. Jesse doesn’t blame him.

 

“You could probably look me up if you wanted to,” he says in a quiet, spontaneous bid for transparency. He turns his gaze up toward the moon. “Dunno if I’d recommend it though. You might not like what you find.”

 

From the corner of his eye, he can see Hanzo looking at him. “You think it would deter me.”

 

“You wouldn’t be the first one.”  

 

Hanzo makes a contemplative noise and the silence that follows sits in Jesse’s stomach like a heavy stone.

 

“It would be too late for such a thing,” Hanzo finally says, his voice quiet but steady.

 

Jesse laughs, a sound born out of relief rather than amusement. “You could still run,” he says, only half joking.

 

“You are not so frightening, Jesse McCree.”

 

There’s some part of Jesse that believes him. That he wouldn’t run the second he saw who Jesse really is. Who he used to be. Maybe he just really, really wants to believe it.

 

Hanzo squeezes his hand as if he can guess at the thoughts running through Jesse’s head but he doesn’t press the issue.

 

“Now you, on the other hand,” Jesse chuckles, swaying briefly against Hanzo. “You, sweetheart - you’re terrifyin’.”

 

“Thank you,” Hanzo primly tells him, coaxing more laughter from McCree.

 

The red roof of the Shimada estate is visible from nearly everywhere in Hanamura, but it’s particularly imposing up close. Hanzo drops Jesse’s hand within the gate, though not unkindly. He doesn’t move from Jesse’s side or lean away from any casual bumps with his elbow or shoulder.

 

The main house is lit up like a beacon, unlike when Jesse was here last night, or the night before. Hanzo regards it with some measure of disquiet himself. Jesse’s starting to get the feeling he normally keeps that great big house all by his lonesome. The closer they get, the clearer a faint, steady noise becomes.

 

“Hey,” he says, nudging Hanzo’s side. “You hear music?”

 

“No,” Hanzo grunts, sweeping a strand of hair behind his hair. “Though I suspect I soon will.”

 

They follow the noise to the kitchen, some loud Japanese pop song Jesse doesn’t recognize. Genji’s singing along and wiggling his body in a half dance at the counter while he’s working away at some daikon. He isn’t alone.

 

Jesse doesn’t know why he’s so surprised to see an omnic here but he is, stopping in the door frame as soon as he sees him floating next the counter. Hanzo seems similarly startled, only making it one step further before coming to a halt.

 

The omnic notices them first and something about his change in posture must have alerted Genji because he turns around not two seconds later.

 

“Hanzo!” he calls out and takes the little remote that’s lying on the counter to turn down the volume of the music. “You are late!”  

 

“I was _working_ ,” Hanzo says and walks towards the counter like the sight of his brother dancing around an omnic in his kitchen hasn’t surprised him for even a second. “I am sure you are still familiar with the concept. Or the closing times of the shop.”

 

“Intimately,” Genji says and laughs. “But you are here now. Let me introduce you.”

 

Jesse doesn’t think he’d be stepping beyond the boundaries of reality to say the look Genji gives the omnic is adoring. Didn’t know people could moon so obviously outside of movies, but something about Genji softens exponentially when he gestures toward his floating companion.

 

“This is Zenyatta,” he says, warmly. “My mentor in Nepal. Master, this is my brother Hanzo, and…” He wrinkles his brow. “Ah. Forgive me, your name escapes me.”

 

“No trouble,” Jesse says, doffing his hat. “Jesse McCree.”

 

“Greetings to you both.” Zenyatta lifts a hand. His voice is deeper than Jesse might’ve expected, his hands broader. A series of orbs drift around his neck, defying gravity like Zenyatta himself. “Genji has told me much about you, Hanzo,” he goes on. Hanzo grimaces. Zenyatta turns his head slightly toward Jesse. “Though you remain an enigma to me, Jesse McCree.”

 

There’s an affable lilt to his voice, nearly imperceptible but for the way Genji laughs and nudges him.

 

“Not just to you,” Jesse says with a wink. “Pleased to meet you.”

 

“A Shamabli monk,” Hanzo says and Jesse’s not quite sure if it’s a question or a statement. Judging by the look Genji gives his brother, he’s not too certain either.

 

Zenyatta bows his head slightly. “One of many. Although Genji and I do not live at the monastery any longer.”

 

Hanzo narrows his eyes as he turns his head to look at Genji and Jesse can feel a tension in the air, similar to the one he felt this afternoon. He doesn’t know what exactly about Zenyatta’s words caused this reaction but he feels the need to step in before it gets worse.

 

“So,” he says and puts his hat down on the counter. “Nepal, huh? Always wanted to go there... someday.”

 

Zenyatta folds his hands in his lap. “How wonderful. Is that true?”

 

“It is now.”

 

Genji laughs. “You should. You as well, Hanzo. It is beautiful. Very… peaceful.”

 

The sound of Hanzo clicking his tongue is very familiar to Jesse by now but it sounds sharper now somehow.

 

Jesse’s still mulling over the best thing to say to divert the brothers’ attention from each other when Zenyatta rests a hand on Genji’s shoulder. It’s like flipping a switch; all of Genji’s focus centers upon his mentor.

 

“Genji.” Zenyatta tilts his head toward the abandoned daikon radish. “Did you not say you wished to show me your technique?”

 

“Ah. Of course,” Genji demures, taking up the knife again. He has a bright grin for Jesse and Hanzo both. “I hope you have not eaten yet.”

 

“I work at a ramen shop,” Hanzo says dryly.

 

“Where I ain’t ever seen you eat,” Jesse cuts in.

 

Hanzo shoots him a dirty look but his cheeks darken.

 

“He says he doesn’t get hungry when he has to work with food all day,” Genji says and grins. “I never understood it either.”

 

Hanzo opens his mouth, undoubtedly to say something cutting, but Jesse discreetly puts his hand on the small of his back. It’s enough to startle him for a moment and to give Jesse the chance to speak. “Why don’t we take care of dinner then, Genji? Just this once?”

 

Genji smiles and takes an exaggerated bow before handing him a knife. “I would be honored to work alongside you, Jesse McCree.” He looks to Hanzo who hasn’t moved an inch. “It’s fine, Hanzo. I will not eat him.”

 

Hanzo huffs but he doesn’t move to murder anyone, which Jesse takes as a good sign. Instead, he takes deep breath. “Fine,” he says. “I will go change.”

 

Somehow Jesse thinks Genji is going to say something as soon the door closes behind Hanzo but instead, Genji just pulls the cutting board with the daikon radish towards himself and begins to work. He’s just as skilled with the knife as Hanzo, but seems to favor flashiness over efficiency - something that’s obviously endlessly delightful to Zenyatta.

 

“Do you like music, McCree?” Genji asks, and Jesse nods.

 

“Sure do. Country _and_ western.”

 

Genji smiles politely, although the joke falls flat. Wrong crowd. “Yeah,” Jesse continues waving toward the player. “Go on ahead. Whatever you had goin’ before.”

 

Genji brightens, and with the click of a button, music fills the room once more. Jesse winces at the volume, and Genji laughs apologetically, turning it down.

 

“Ahh, sorry, sorry,” Genji says, so emphatically that it’s likely at least half in jest. ”Your ears are more sensitive than ours, are they not?”

 

“Not for much longer if I hang around you, I expect.”

 

Zenyatta hums, peering over their shoulders as they work. Jesse scrubs up before he takes instruction from Genji and a hunk of ginger root bigger than his hand.

 

When Genji notices the look on his face, he laughs. “Don’t worry. We won’t need all of it.” He reaches over to chop of a thumb-sized piece and holds it up. “There.”

 

Jesse nods and goes on to crush it as he’s seen Hanzo do it so many times.

 

“I have not met many werewolves,” Genji says, moving on from the daikon to cutting up some pork.

 

“I haven’t met many dragons either.”

 

Genji smiles. “Yes, I imagine they are a rare breed around where you come from.”

 

“I imagine they are a rare breed everywhere, Genji,” Zenyatta says softly and Genji’s low laugh is so similar to Hanzo’s that it’s almost eerie.

 

“I assume that is true, Master. And for the best, probably.”

 

Zenyatta hums. “A matter of debate.”

 

Genji wears a real bashful smile as he reaches up into a cupboard. He places four black ceramic cups on the counter, round and painted over with sparrows. From his row of ingredients, Genji pulls a tall bottle and fills each cup to the brim.

 

“Sake,” he sighs, placing a cup in front of Jesse, and another before Zenyatta. “I have missed you most of all.”

 

He taps the side of his cup to Jesse’s before they both drink deeply. Zenyatta doesn’t touch his, but seems content to enjoy their enjoyment. The sake tastes mild, a little fruity, somewhat sweet. Refreshing. Genji perks up when he drains the cup and pours him another.

 

“This is Hanzo’s favorite,” he says with a wink. “He is weak to sake. This is his brand.”

 

“Think I‘ll try to remember that,” Jesse says, pulling the bottle over to snap a quick picture. “More of a bourbon man myself, but this is mighty nice.”

 

“I must use it for the daikon no nimono before he returns, or there will be none left,” he snickers, pouring a cup to set aside for his brother.

 

He uses some more for the main dish later and even more for refilling Jesse’s cup for the third time. By the time Jesse’s finished it, Hanzo comes back into the kitchen, smelling so nice and clean Jesse just wants to scoop him up and bury his nose in the crook of his neck. But maybe that’s just the sake talking.

 

Genji gives him a little grin and raises his eyebrows when Hanzo wanders over to the sake before doing anything else. Jesse really has to remember that.

 

“Oyakodon,” Hanzo says when he peers over Genji’s shoulder and into the pan.

 

“Of course,” Genji says with a smile. “What else?”

 

Hanzo smiles back like they’re sharing some private joke before he remembers himself and clears his throat. When he turns to face Zenyatta, his face is unreadable again - although a lot of the tension from before seems to have dissipated.

 

“I apologize for my earlier behavior. I meant no offense. I was merely… surprised.”

 

Both Jesse and Genji look up to stare at him but Zenyatta only tilts his head. “I understand,” he says. “And I would like to thank you for welcoming us in your home.”

 

“It is Genji’s home as much as it is mine,” Hanzo says.

 

The sake must be magic, Jesse decides.

 

Despite Genji’s earlier implications to the contrary, that is far from the only bottle of sake in the kitchen. Hanzo pulls two more from a tall cupboard door and tops up each empty cup.

 

The longer they stand around the kitchen, talking and cooking and drinking together, the more Hanzo relaxes into Jesse. It starts slowly enough, but by his fifth cup, Hanzo’s leaning against him as he slips in and out of Japanese in conversation with Genji. Jesse’s never been happier to be a tool for support. He slips his hand back around behind Hanzo, and Hanzo uses the shift to nestle a bit further against him without a pause in conversation. A little thrill shoots through Jesse’s sake-warm belly at the gesture.

 

“Come, brother,” Genji eventually says, piling fragrant chicken and eggs on top of four bowls heaped with rice. “Fill your stomach before McCree has to carry you.”

 

Hanzo glowers but there’s no real heat behind it, and when they move to the adjacent room to eat, he sits down very close to Jesse on the floor, leaning against him now and again.

 

The food is good. Jesse doesn’t know if it’s the sake or the fact that he’s been living on ramen and soda for the last few weeks, but it might just be the best thing he’s eaten since he arrived in Japan.

 

“Genji has always been a good cook,” Hanzo says when Jesse shamelessly groans in pleasure for the third time.

 

“Unfortunately,” Genji says and Hanzo rolls his eyes in a way that Jesse is very familiar with by now. “It’s true! There are so many things I’d rather be good at!”

 

“I can  only imagine what those things are,” Hanzo says and then… actually laughs.

 

Genji blinks before breaking out into a grin.

 

Jesse decides the sake is definitely magic.

 

If possible, Hanzo inhales his bowl of oyakodon faster than Jesse, even plucking slices of pickled daikon from their ornate bowl in between. The scent of them is a little strong for Jesse, but they’re tangy and slightly sweet. He doesn’t eat many of them, though; he’s having too much fun watching Hanzo enjoy himself.

 

“What’s that,” Jesse asks, perking up when Genji retrieves a jar from the kitchen. The question is rhetorical - he can see the diced chili peppers swimming in their own juices within, a mass of red and yellow. Genji’s smile is wicked.

 

“Chinese hot sauce,” he proudly proclaims, dropping down to sit cross-legged by his mentor. Hanzo hisses and leans back. He says something in Japanese that makes Genji erupt into peals of laughter. “Let him try it, brother; McCree looks like he can handle his spice!”

 

“Sure can,” Jesse says, leaning forward eagerly. Genji coaxes a thick dollop into his bowl before he slides the jar over, his eyes gleaming, grin wicked. Jesse doesn’t have to lean in to get a whiff of it. His eyes water. “Shi-it,” he groans, eying the size of Genji’s mass before he scoops out that and a little more.

 

Hanzo puts a hand on his arm. “Genji is a devil,” he says sternly. It’s real cute with his cheeks all pink from the sake. He speaks again in Japanese, and then backtracks in English. “He is baiting you.”

 

“Aww, honey,” Jesse nearly whines. “I can take it. Don’t you trust me?”

 

“Hmm.” Hanzo’s brow furrows, but he leans back. “I will leave you to your fate.”

 

Jesse is pretty confident, even when just the smell of his bowl is enough to make him cry. He’s been raised on his abuela’s cooking who was never hesitant when it came to am extra kick. How bad could it really be?

 

And in any case, there’s no way he’s backing out now. Not with Genji grinning at him like that.

 

The first bite isn’t too bad. And just because Genji is looking at him like that, Jesse immediately scoops a second one into his mouth. It takes exactly two seconds. Two seconds for him to regret all the life choices that have led him to this moment.

 

His mouth is on fire. He’s sure of it. And when he takes a sharp breath, it only gets worse. Which shouldn’t be possible. But it does. This is nothing like his abuela’s cooking - this is the devil himself shitting molten lava into his mouth.

 

He’s faintly aware of the fact that Genji’s laughing. Hanzo looks at his brother like he punched Jesse in the face. Which, in all fairness, probably would have hurt less than this.

 

Jesse may or may not be crying by the time Genji retrieves a glass of milk from the kitchen. Wherever he got it from, it hasn’t been refrigerated, but Jesse couldn’t care less. He downs half the glass in one swallow. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, dabbing at his eyes with the back of a wrist. “Son of a gun!”

 

“I am impressed!” Genji says with his Cheshire grin. Zenyatta flicks a wrist and a golden orb drifts over to drift over Jesse’s shoulder. A warm pull like honey sucks the pain from him until he can pull his mouth out of a grimace.

 

“Thanks,” he says hoarsely, and takes up his chopsticks with determination. Genji’s face might fall apart if his grin grows any wider. Hanzo mutters something and bats at Jesse’s elbow.

 

“Is your pride so great that you cannot admit defeat?” he asks. Jesse points his chopsticks at Genji.

 

“It sure as hell is. I got something to prove now. When I die, you can have everything to my name, darlin’.”

 

“I am sure that will make me a rich man,” Hanzo says dryly but leans back to watch the carnage - not entirely unamused.

 

“I like this man, brother,” Genji says, pushing the jar closer to Jesse. “Would you like some more?”

 

Jesse laughs and it sounds like the cough of a dying man. “I might be a stubborn ass but I’m not an idiot.”

 

It doesn’t get easier. Now that he knows what to expect, the punch of the hot sauce only hits him earlier. It takes more milk and the help of Zenyatta’s strange gold orb but he gets through it. When he finally sets down his chopsticks and downs the last glass of milk, Genji is practically cheering.

 

Jesse’s definitely crying now, and not in a pretty way. He knows he looks like a mess when he turns to Hanzo. “Are you at least a little bit proud now?”

 

Hanzo shakes his head but there’s a fond smile on his face and he hands him a tissue. “Very,” he says and pats his knee.

 

Generously, Genji retrieves a bar of ice cream from the kitchen not long after. Jesse can’t read the Japanese, but with a flavor like “milk” written in English across the front, he figures he couldn’t do much better than this. He sits quiet and occupied with his restorative treat while Genji finishes his bowl with no trouble (bastard), and Hanzo pours himself yet another cup of sake.

 

Finally, when the dishes are empty and the cicadas hum beyond the wide windows, Zenyatta turns to Genji.

 

“It is late,” he says, “and our flight was long.”

 

“I’ll clean up,” Jesse says, hefting himself up with a grunt. “Y’all get on to bed.”

 

“I will assist you,” Zenyatta offers, but Jesse waves him off.

 

“Nah. You go on ‘head and rest up. I’ll get Shimada-san to bed one way or another.”

 

Hanzo isn’t much help when it comes to doing the dishes, even though he tries his best. It’s alright with Jesse. He’s happy with doing most of the work while Hanzo takes three minutes to dry one bowl and tells him where everything goes.

 

“How is your mouth?” Hanzo asks when the last dishes are put away and Jesse even managed to get the last of the sake out of Hanzo’s reach.

 

“Not like it’s on fire anymore. Smoldering maybe.”

 

Hanzo laughs and leans back against the counter. “I warned you.”

 

“You did.” Jesse reaches out to take his hand. “I guess I should’ve warned you that I’m a fool.”

 

“I already knew this.” Hanzo tugs at his hand and he comes willingly, leans in to kiss him sweetly. Hanzo is soft and warm in his arms - from the sake and the long day and maybe something else. When Jesse lifts him up onto the counter, he only laughs and wraps his legs around him before kissing him again.

 

Jesse’s never seen Hanzo so loose-limbed and carefree. Maybe that’s presumptuous, having only known him for a month, but it’s new. It’s _nice_.

 

It’s also a pair of hands creeping down the back of his jeans. Jesse cuts their kiss off with a chuckle, taking Hanzo’s hands from his ass. “Sugar,” he laughs, “you’re drunk as a skunk. Can’t let you into my pants in good conscience.”

 

“Why do you say these things in this way,” Hanzo grumbles, unresisting. “Cowboy is not my first language.”

 

“Sorry,” he says, pressing his nose to Hanzo’s cheek. He kisses him again, but softly, just at the corner of his lips. “Sorry. You’re real pretty, you know that?”

 

“So you have said.” Hanzo’s head comes to fall on Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse grins into his hair.

 

“Why don’t I get you to bed?”

 

Hanzo mumbles something into the fabric of Jesse’s shirt that might not be English.

 

“You won’t even have to move,” Jesse says and hooks his hands under Hanzo’s thighs to lift him off the counter. Hanzo makes a surprised noise that ends in laughter and holds on to Jesse while he carries him out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

 

It takes some maneuvering to slide open the door to Hanzo’s room but once they’re inside, Jesse is able to carefully put Hanzo down on the futon. It’s definitely harder to get Hanzo to let go of him, however.

 

“We won’t be able to sleep like this, sweetheart,” Jesse says, half kneeling over him and half trying to untangle himself from Hanzo’s grasp. It’s not even that Hanzo’s trying anything. He looks half asleep already but his legs are still around Jesse’s waist like vices.

 

Jesse only gets him to let go when he awkwardly rolls himself over Hanzo and lies down next to him. Hanzo immediately turns to him and holds on to the front of Jesse’s flannel, pulling himself closer. He looks cute - cuter than a grown man who’s regularly scowling at him has any right to be. But Jesse is still fully dressed and he knows he’ll have to get up eventually to change.

 

He just wants to give Hanzo a few minutes to fully fall asleep.

 

“Thank you,” Hanzo suddenly says, keeping his eyes closed and his voice low. “For tonight.”

 

Jesse brushes a long strand of hair from his sleepy face. Can’t recall the last time he touched anything but Peacekeeper so tenderly. Doesn’t want to think about how soon he‘ll lose this - this thing built so quickly, in so short a time. Against all odds, it‘s simple with Hanzo. Jesse feels like pieces of himself have fallen into place - moved exactly where they should be by Hanzo’s expert hands.

 

“You got nothin‘ to thank me for,” he murmurs, chancing a tiny pinch to Hanzo’s cheek. It earns him a disgruntled huff and no more.

 

Hanzo smells like sake, like soap and unscented lotion. His sheets smell like McCree.

 

“Pretty sure I should be thankin’ you.”

  
Hanzo doesn’t respond. He breathes deep and even, his grip on Jesse’s shirt relaxing. Jesse takes the opportunity to bump his nose against Hanzo’s  before he pulls himself away to undress.


	9. Chapter 9

The tantalizing scent of onions frying rouses the wolf from his slumber. Jesse grunts, shifting minutely against the solid wall of heat tucked against his back. He‘s uncomfortably warm, trapped in place by an arm around his chest. Regulated to little spoon.

 

Least surprising of all is the way his face is pressed half into Hanzo‘s sheets. He breathes in sharply and groans as he turns beneath Hanzo‘s arm. A better man might leave his sleeping beauty to rest, but Jesse’s never claimed to be a better man.

 

“Hey,” he rasps, nosing at Hanzo’s chin to get at his throat. Hanzo’s grunt vibrates against his mouth. “Hey, gorgeous.” Jesse kisses his clavicle. “Sweetness. Honeybee.”

 

“Cease,” Hanzo grumbles, but tilts his chin upward obligingly. Jesse hums into another kiss.

 

“I smell breakfast,” he says, palming up Hanzo’s hip to his waist. Hanzo sighs. “’M thinkin’ we should get in on that.”

 

“Sleep.” For someone still half asleep, Hanzo moves pretty quickly as he slings his leg over Jesse’s and pulls himself closer, effectively trapping Jesse in place.

 

Jesse laughs and places another kiss on Hanzo’s throat. “You know, usually I’d be really into that. But I’m afraid my rumbling stomach is gonna ruin the mood.”

 

“I am used to it,” Hanzo says, his voice just a hoarse rasp. “You are always hungry.” But he doesn’t make any further moves, just snuggles up a little closer and falls asleep again.

 

Jesse gives him three more minutes. Because he’s a weak, weak man. But then, his rumbling stomach makes the decision for him. Hanzo groans when he slowly starts to slip out from under his arm and his leg and the covers, but his sleepy reflexes are not fast enough to grab Jesse.

 

He does plant himself on all fours over Hanzo and plants a loud, sloppy kiss on his cheek before rolling away and onto his feet.

 

Jesse stretches onto the tips of his toes, joints popping all through his body before he grabs his shirt and jeans from the night before.

 

Hanzo has one eye cracked and trained on him from under the rumpled duvet. Jesse blows him a kiss and softly closes the door behind him before he makes his way to the source of the breakfasty scent.

 

There’s no music playing in the kitchen this time, though Genji does hum a little tune as he pours some sort of fragrant batter into a wide, flat skillet. A pile of thin pancakes sits at his elbow, bespeckled with onions and something green. The rice cooker steams slowly, cheery red numbers counting down the minutes of preparation.

 

“Good morning,” Zenyatta greets him, and Genji looks over his shoulder to do the same. This morning the omnic isn’t floating, but sitting cross-legged on the countertop by Genji. The yellow pants and sash from the night before have disappeared in favor of a billowy pair of pajama pants covered in green dragons.

 

“Smells like a good mornin’ alright,” Jesse agrees, snatching an apple from a bowl on the counter.

 

Genji grins and flips the pancake. “I trust you got my brother into bed last night?”

 

“Of course.” Jesse leans against the counter. “Getting him out of it seems to be the problem.”

 

“Ah, yes. The morning after sake. I should have warned you.” Genji laughs. “He will come running as soon as he realizes that this leaves you alone with us.”

 

“It’s hardly the first time.” Jesse shrugs and takes a bite out of the apple just to calm his rumbling stomach.

 

“Your brother seemed amenable last night, Genji,” Zenyatta cuts in, his voice as deep and pleasant as the night before.

 

Genji makes a contemplative noise and adds the finished pancake to the pile on the plate before reaching for the bowl with batter. “That is not the word I would use.”

 

“We must open our hearts to the change in others, Genji.”

 

Genji pauses for a moment before his expression softens. “You are right, Master.” He scoops the last of the batter into the pan. “A force of habit.”

 

Zenyatta hums and turns his head to Jesse who’s been silently watching the exchange.

 

“So,” Jesse starts, munching on the apple. “What’s the story between you two?”

 

“A long one,” Zenyatta says. Funny thing: he doesn’t have a functioning mouth, but somehow Jesse can still hear his smile.

 

“A good one,” Genji adds, turning his head to face Zenyatta. Jesse can’t see his expression from here, but supposes he probably ain’t meant to. Genji pulls a bowl forward and piles a few thin pancakes on top before he hands it to Jesse with a pair of chopsticks.

 

“Much obliged,” Jesse groans, folding one over and tearing into it straightaway. Whatever the green bits are are salty, sharp in flavor.

 

“Of course.” Genji turns back to the stove. “Zenyatta found me at a very... troubled point in my life. Under his tutelage I found peace.”

 

“Harmony was within you all along, Genji,” Zenyatta gently rebukes. Genji glances over his shoulder at Jesse.

 

“He is modest, as always. Without his intervention, I would have never returned to Hanamura.”

 

Zenyatta’s orbs drift slowly around his shoulders. “You speak in certainties, though nothing is certain but uncertainty.”

 

“Yes, yes. I _might_ never have returned to Hanamura,” Genji corrects, bobbing his head.

 

“Sounds like a movie,” Jesse says. “Troubled young man goes into the mountains and finds peace and purpose…”

 

Genji laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “It was not quite so simple. But that wouldn’t make for a very interesting movie, I’m afraid.”

 

“Who is being modest now?” Zenyatta asks, his voice thick with amusement. “I would watch your story unfold again.”

 

Genji laughs. “An audience of one, then.”

 

There’s more to the story, Jesse suspects. A part that includes Hanzo. He remembers the expression on his face as he stood in the exact same space where Genji is standing now. How just speaking his brother’s name seemed almost too much.  

 

But whatever it is, it’s not just Genji’s story to tell. And it’s not Jesse’s place to ask.

 

“How long have you been in Hanamura, McCree?” Genji asks, pulling Jesse out of his thoughts.

 

“A little over a month now.”

 

“Oh?” Genji raises his eyebrows, genuinely surprised. “That isn’t very long at all. I never would have guessed.”

 

“You and me both.” He all but inhales the second pancake, just as good as the first - soft, salty, crisp around the edges.

 

The rice cooker goes off with a cheery series of beeps. Genji opens the lid with a plume of steam and spoons out four bowls full. Zenyatta doesn’t drink and he doesn’t eat, but Genji goes to great lengths to include him in mealtime rituals. There’s more than simple respect in their interactions. Hell, there‘s more than affection. Adoration’s a fine word for it. What Jesse “The Nosy Romantic” McCree wouldn’t give to know the whole dang story there.

 

Genji tosses the empty batter bowl in the sink and pours a cap of oil into the pan, cracking a couple of eggs. “How did you wear my brother down in a month, McCree?”

 

“Aw, I’m just a real charmin’ fella.”

 

Genji laughs brightly. “You must have been very persistent with your charms.”

 

“Dogged,” McCree agrees with a grin. Zenyatta laughs; Genji does not. Ain’t he allowed puns at his own expense?

 

“I don’t know if you noticed but my brother is not easily swayed.”

 

“That’s... one way to put it.”

 

Genji watches him from his spot by the stove with an almost thoughtful expression and it takes Jesse a moment to realize that he has that dopey grin on his face again. He quickly stuffs his mouth with the third pancake.

 

“Would it be too bold of me to ask after your intentions?” Genji asks with a little smile.

 

“A little.”

 

Genji laughs to himself and turns back to the pan on the stove. “You don’t seem like the type to settle down in a place like Hanamura.”

 

Jesse raises an eyebrow. He knows bait when he sees it. “That makes two of us, I think.”

 

“A fair assumption.”

 

Jesse opens his mouth to answer but before he can he hears the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. He turns around just in time to see Hanzo open the door to the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

 

“Good morning,” Zenyatta greets, once again managing to be first with the pleasantries.

 

“Well hey there, mornin’ glory,” Jesse says, straightening up a bit from the counter. Genji grins at his brother‘s entrance and says something that Jesse doesn’t understand, topping a bowl of rice off with both fried eggs. He pushes it in Hanzo‘s direction, and Hanzo takes it with a gruff word of thanks in Japanese.

 

It’s probably on account of the late night of drinking, but this is the first time Jesse’s seen Hanzo anything less than daisy fresh straight out of bed.

 

Genji goes to work on more eggs, and Hanzo stands in the middle of the kitchen floor glaring groggily at his bowl of rice. Jesse chuckles, patting the island space beside him. “C’mere, darlin’. Gettin’ some food in you will perk you right up.”

 

Hanzo scowls but comes over to him. There’s a pillow crease on his left cheek that Jesse would love to kiss but he settles for briefly squeezing his hand.

 

“I thought we would not see you for another hour at least,” Genji says as he cracks more eggs into the sizzling pan.

 

“You are all loud enough to rouse an army,” Hanzo grumbles. “I could hear you laughing from my room.”

 

“Has the sake improved your hearing, brother? A miracle!”

 

Jesse smiles to himself thinking about the magic qualities of last night’s sake but hides his grin before Hanzo’s scowl is directed at him.

 

Hanzo takes the first bite of his food and sighs contently. He finishes half the bowl before Jesse has time to do as much as comment on it. When he lowers his chopsticks he looks a little bit better already, although the pillow crease persists.

 

“Have you finished the tea already?,” Hanzo asks, looking around the kitchen. “I can make more.”

 

Jesse can see Genji freeze, just for a split second. He looks up from the eggs in the pan but his eyes flick to Zenyatta before he turns to his brother. “No, I haven’t.”

 

Suspicious. Jesse glances toward Hanzo to see if he feels the same. There’s a cute little furrow in his brow, but nothing beyond that. He nods and busies himself with a tall glass pot and a strainer.

 

The smell of the herbs fresh from the bag hits Jesse’s nose like Hanzo’s scent in its purest form. Grassy and sharp, he wants to bury his face in the bag as he wants to turn away from the strength of it.

 

It occurs to Jesse in an offhanded sort of way that he can’t quite recall smelling it on Genji. He brushes the thought away with a huff; he isn’t exactly as intimate with Genji’s scent as he is with Hanzo’s.

 

“I will have to get ready for work soon,” Hanzo says as he measures out the right amount of tea.

 

Genji gasps theatrically. “What? You’re not even taking the day off for your only brother?”

 

There’s a slight hint of color rising in Hanzo’s cheeks. “I... already took a personal day this week.”

 

“Oh, of course. How silly of me.” Genji fills a second bowl with rice and egg and swaps it for Jesse’s empty one. “Two days off in one week? Unfathomable.”

 

Hanzo clicks his tongue. “It is called responsibility.”

 

“He ain’t nothin’ if not responsible,” Jesse grins. Genji sighs, tipping his head back.

 

“Then Zenyatta and I must entertain ourselves.”

 

“As we had originally intended,” Zenyatta says, drifting off the counter to float with his hands in his lap. Genji clicks his tongue.

 

“Could I not guilt him for a little longer, Master?” he sighs, and Zenyatta tips his head in response.

 

“Ah, of course. I have misstepped into your brotherly teasing. Pay me no mind.”

 

Genji lets a couple of eggs slip from the pan on top of another bowl of rice and hands this one to Jesse. He ain’t a fan of unseasoned rice topped only with eggs, but far be it from Jesse to spurn the hospitality granted to him. He picks off one of the eggs and lets Hanzo take the rest from him to wolf down instead. “I’ll walk you, a‘course,” he says. Hanzo glances up, thoughtful.

 

“You have unreasonable amounts of free time,” he says, narrowing his eyes. Genji perks up.

 

“You could join us then, McCree!”

 

“Aw, well,” he says, scratching at his stubbly jaw. “I wouldn’t wanna third wheel, now.”

 

“Third what?” Genji asks.

 

Zenyatta lifts a hand. “You would not be imposing. Your company is welcome.”

 

Jesse looks at Hanzo, trying to find any signs of discomfort at the idea of letting him spend the day with his brother but he doesn’t look more or less irritated than usual, still busy with finishing up Jesse’s rice and eggs.

 

“Tell you what,” Jesse says after another second. “I’ll walk Mister Responsible here to work and meet you afterwards for whatever you had planned.”

 

Zenyatta tilts his head. “That sounds agreeable to me.”

 

Genji nods. “I’m sure there are a lot of places in Hanamura Hanzo has not showed you yet. The interesting ones.”

 

“The arcade moved last year,” Hanzo says. “Two streets over. I would not want you to get lost.”

 

Genji huffs. “How do you know that’s where I wanted to take them?”

 

“I know you.” Hanzo puts the bowl down and pours two cups of tea. He pushes one of them over the counter towards Genji. “I am going to get dressed.”

 

As soon as he disappears from the kitchen, Jesse debates following him to stall the process. He can’t help but notice as he stuffs the last bit of breakfast into his mug and leaves the other two with a jaunty wave that Genji doesn’t touch the tea.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Is it too soon to ask to kiss you goodbye?” Jesse asks at the locked door of the shop. He puts on his best puppy eyes, and just barely stops himself from popping a couple of fuzzy ears to droop. Hanzo appraises him slowly before he sighs, glances around the mostly empty street, and leans forward tugging Jesse down by the collar.

 

The kiss is brief, but Hanzo allows Jesse to bump their noses once before he pulls away. “Only because you gave me half of your breakfast,” he mutters, pushing Jesse back. Jesse stumbles backward and clutches at his chest.

 

“Shoot, sugar, you can have every breakfast to my name for kisses like that,” he hoots, to Hanzo’s chagrin. He’s waved briskly away, but no man on earth can convince Jesse that there wasn’t a tiny little smile on Hanzo’s face before he turned his back on Jesse.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this week's chapter is eensy weensy, I'll be posting next week's chapter a little early. :D -B

Zenyatta is far more impressed by all that Genji has to show him than Jesse thinks could possibly be genuine. Still, something about him strikes Jesse as plum honest, so he watches, amused, as Zenyatta floats through the town, enraptured by Genji’s tour.

 

It’s one of the more unusual sightseeing walks Jesse’s been on. Genji has a story to tell about almost every place they visit and very few of them have anything to do with the history or cultural heritage of the town. Instead, Genji paints them a picture of a wild youth - every tale told with just enough fondness and embarrassment to be truly charming.

 

Hanzo features in quite a few of them, usually as some kind of chaperon that needed to be ditched or avoided after sneaking back into the house at all hours of the morning. But sometimes, in the some of the older stories, he’s there as a partner in crime. That one is more difficult to imagine - a younger, more carefree version of the man he’s come to care for so much.

 

“I shifted here once,” Genji tells them as the walk out into a pretty little square lined with cherry trees. “I was trying to impress a boy.” He laughs at the memory, a little uneasy.

 

“Was he impressed?” Zenyatta asks and floats towards the small fountain in the middle of the square.

 

“He was terrified, actually. I had no idea what I was doing.”

 

Zenyatta lifts his hand, a magnanimous gesture. “You were young.”

 

“Hmm.” Genji slips his hands into his pockets, tilting his body at Zenyatta like a flower toward the sun. “Thanks to you, I have found my balance.”

 

“The effort to achieve inner harmony is yours alone, Genji.” The way the sun hits him from behind and the synthetic petals of the cherry blossoms blowing across the square beyond, Zenyatta truly does look the picture of wisdom - of serenity. Jesse can see why a man might be inspired to follow him.

 

“You, uh... y’all weren’t given the best tools to manage your forms, huh?” Jesse asks, catching Genji’s attention. He looks surprised.

 

“Hanzo told you...?”

 

“He not supposed to?”

 

“No, it is not that.” Genji’s brow furrows, though he does smile. “Your charms must be very strong for him to have opened up to you so quickly.”

“He… helped me during the full moon,” Jesse says.

 

Genji walks over to the fountain and sits down on the edge of if. “Let me guess. He made you fight him.”

 

“He tried to.”

 

Genji’s laughter is clear like a bell over the sound of water behind him. “Of course he did.” He leans down and dips his fingertips into the water. “It is what they taught us when we were children.”

 

“An ill-advised approach,” Zenyatta says but Genji just shrugs.

 

“For me it was. It always seemed to work for Hanzo.”

 

“Did it?”

 

Genji looks at his mentor for a moment, his expression thoughtful, before turning back to Jesse. “Dragons are not like werewolves. Or any other werebeasts I know of. We are more volatile. Difficult to control. The way you feel during the full moon? That is very close to how we feel all the time.”

 

Jesse swallows around the pit that’s suddenly in his throat. “You don’t seem…” He doesn’t even know how to finish that sentence.

 

“There are ways. Different methods to control it.” He looks at Zenyatta, endless fondness in his eyes. “In Nepal I learned how to center myself, to find the inner peace I needed to live in harmony with the dragon.”

 

“You don’t drink your brother’s tea anymore.”

 

Genji shakes his head. “I do not _need_ it anymore.”

 

But Hanzo does. Regularly.

 

Jesse scratches the back of his neck. He’s really stepped in it this time.

 

“Judgin’ by this morning, I’m gonna assume you haven’t told him.”

 

“I have not,” Genji nods. Grimaces. “I do not relish in the task.”

 

Jesse tips his hat back and glances up toward the clouds. “Can’t say I blame you. Ain’t my business either, but… I dunno if I’d let something like that keep for long. The longer you wait, the longer he’ll feel a fool for makin’ assumptions.”

 

“The stronger he will lash out.” Genji sighs deeply, turning his head toward Zenyatta. “I would recommend some time… away for him, as well. To seek the help that found me.”

 

“And I would be happy to give it,” Zenyatta says, hands spread. Genji’s eyes soften.

 

“He would not leave the shop. There would be no Shimada in control.”

 

Jesse mulls over that one for a second. “Huh. That part two of the conversation you’re puttin’ off?”

 

“He has always believed we would run the shop together,” Genji says, setting an ankle atop his thigh and rotating it slowly. “It did not matter how often or how strongly I protested; his belief in this was firm. He was… greatly disappointed when I left. Now, I fear that in returning I have given him hope where there is none.” The tilt of his lips denotes no joy. “I have only come to see my brother, but I fear this too will only be a disappointment.”

 

Jesse sighs. He feels like he’s kicked a hornet's nest and not even realized it until the first sting. “In my experience, things only get worse the longer you put them off.”

 

“That is most certainly true,” Genji says and runs his hand through his hair until it stands up in all directions. “Perhaps I have enjoyed the peacefulness of this one day a little too long.”

 

“Finding joy in peace in nothing to be ashamed of,” Zenyatta says. “But I fear your brother still has a long way to go.”

 

Jesse shift his weight from one foot to the other. Somehow he doesn’t feel like he should even be part of this conversation. It comes awfully close to talking behind Hanzo’s back - the last thing he wants.

 

“Listen,” he says, trying to push past his discomfort. “He deserves to know. Whatever else he feels about the situation, he’s worried about you.”

 

“Ah,” Genji says and pats down his hair with one hand. “That is what my father used to say.”

 

“Smart man.”

 

“He had his moments.” He gets up from the edge of the fountain and brushes some invisible dirt from his pants. “I will talk to Hanzo.”

 

“Preferably before he finds out himself.”

 

Genji clasps his hands behind his back as they stroll on, adopting a bit of a pout. “That was not the conversation I had intended to put us in the mood for the arcade.”

  
Jesse claps a sympathetic hand to his shoulder and grins at Zenyatta over Genji’s head. “Yeah,” he sighs, as long and deep. “‘fraid that one’s on you.”


	11. Chapter 11

It takes a little cajoling, but eventually Jesse’s able to pull Genji and Zenyatta away from the lure of retro music and flashing lights for a late lunch. Genji stretches his arms above his head just out of the arcade, groaning. “We ate ramen yesterday!”

 

Jesse winces at the sudden, bright sunlight. “Shit man, I haven’t gone a day without your brother’s cooking since I touched down. Sometimes twice a day.”

 

“That’s disgusting,” Genji informs him, sounding entirely too pleased about it. Jesse shrugs.

 

“What can I say? I’m weak to his sparkling personality. His noodles might play a role in there too. Somewhere.”

 

“I bet he makes them special for you,” Genji says and wiggles his eyebrows like a 12-year-old. Jesse feels like he’s been getting flashes of what kind of kid Genji used to be before he left to live in a monastery in Nepal. 

 

They’re late enough to miss the lunchtime rush hour. When Jesse slides open the door to the shop, there are only two other customers inside finishing up their ramen. Hanzo has the expression on his face that he always gets around lunchtime - something between annoyance and exhaustion. But Jesse could swear it brightens up when he spots them coming through the door. 

 

“I can smell the arcade on you from here,” he says as they approach the counter. 

 

“And you smell like pork,” Genji says and flops down on one of the high stools. “I know which one I’d prefer.” 

 

“Same here,” Jesse says, aware of the fact that all of them can probably hear the rumbling of his stomach. Genji snickers, leaning in toward Jesse.

 

“Did we keep you from your timely meal, old man?”

 

With narrowed eyes, Jesse points a pair of chopsticks at him. “As a matter of fact, you did.”

 

“My deepest apologies!” He bows his head. “Please accept a bowl of my brother’s ramen as penance. He is not so handsome or talented as me, but it is all I can offer.”

 

“I am serving one today, then,” Hanzo says with a nod to himself. He eyes Jesse, ignoring Genji’s laughter of protestation. “What will you have?”

 

“Y’know, I really can’t get that bowl outta my head - the one you made for me before, the one you said you like.” 

 

Hanzo glances briefly at Genji before he nods and sets to work.

 

The ramen taste even than last time, or maybe Jesse’s hunger is just playing tricks on him. 

 

“Oh, he made you his favorite,” Genji remarks when Hanzo sets the bowl down in front of Jesse. “How sweet!” 

 

“Well, it just so happens to be mine now too.” Jesse winks at Hanzo, only partially to distract him from scowling at his brother. 

 

“I suppose it is fate then,” Genji says with a little sigh. “Hanzo, you have found yourself a man who gladly eats your ramen twice a day  _ and _ shares your taste in ancient recipes.” He leans over to Jesse. “I do not think that particular one has changed at all in at least three generations.” 

 

“It’s traditional,” Hanzo says with a little huff. 

 

“That is one way to put it.” He turns to Zenyatta, though he speaks loudly enough for Jesse and Hanzo both to hear him. “That was our great, great grandmother’s recipe, they say. I still do not know if I believe it -”

 

“But you would tease it regardless.” Hanzo looks pretty damn dignified for someone sweating in an apron. “Will you have some?”

 

“Of course, brother! You make it best!”

 

“Zenyatta?”

 

Genji brightens at Hanzo’s inquiry, turning to his mentor. Zenyatta tips his head forward. 

 

“I thank you, but that will not be necessary.”

 

“We need to find you a taste processor,” Genji mutters, adopting that pout again. Zenyatta laughs quietly and lets gravity carry him down onto the stool beside Genji.

 

“I trust that the experience is exactly as you have said.”

 

Genji grumbles for a bit but his face lights up as soon as Hanzo serves him a bowl of steaming ramen - despite all of his earlier teasing. He is too busy digging into his food to notice the fond smile on Hanzo’s face, but Jesse sees it. 

 

As much as he would like to get it over with and just get all impending unpleasantness out of the way, some part of him is glad that Genji seems to have learned a little bit more restraint than the stories of his youth suggest. Jesse’s not sure if he wants to be even close to the brothers when that particular bomb goes off. But he knows that it will hurt Hanzo, one way or another. And if he needs him, Jesse will be there. 

 

“You are very quiet,” Hanzo says as he refills Jesse’s bowl. 

 

“Nah, just tired,” Jesse says. “I think that arcade music was a bit much for my poor ears. They’re still ringing.”

 

It’s not a lie, not technically. But Hanzo eyes him for perhaps a second longer than usual before he turns around to refill Genji’s tea. 

 

For once, Jesse contents himself to sit back and enjoy the sounds of someone else dominating the conversation. For the most part, the Shimada brothers manage to maintain their English as politeness would dictate - but often, one or both return to their native tongue. Jesse tries to pick out a few words and phrases he knows, but more than anything, it’s just pleasant noise. 

 

Hanzo seems more expressive in Japanese - the faces he makes, his tone of voice. Jesse slumps his chin into his metal palm, soaking up the sound of a vast array of emotion he normally doesn’t hear from Hanzo. 

 

He’s delighted to find that he clicks his tongue just as much when speaking Japanese as when he’s talking to Jesse in English. When Hanzo catches him staring, he stumbles over his words for a moment, much to Genji’s amusement. 

 

“Is this a habit of yours now?” Hanzo asks but there’s no bite behind it. “Looking at me?”

 

“With a face like yours it could be.”

 

Hanzo rolls his eyes and collects Jesse’s empty bowl before moving to the back room. 

 

“I should thank you for this,” Genji says. “You, flustering him.” 

 

Jesse laughs. “This is him flustered? And here I thought my charm was losing its magic.” 

 

“My brother would pretend he is as immovable as stone,” Genji muses, prodding at a slice of beef at the bottom of his bowl. “It is good to see him thwarted.”

 

Jesse leans back into a laugh, the quiet of the shop disrupted. “Get your head outta those video games, boy; you’re talking like he’s some sorta villain.”

 

“The final boss,” Genji agrees, lifting his bowl to drink the broth. He sighs with contentment and drops the bowl back to the counter. “I would ask for your finishing move, but I do not think it is something I wish to know.”

 

Jesse’s clutching his stomach by the time Hanzo returns to investigate the noise.

 

“Why do I get get the feeling you were talking about me?” 

 

“We would never.” Jesse wipes the tears from the corner of his eyes. 

 

“Hmm.” Hanzo looks back and forth between them. “I have told you that my brother is a terror and not to believe a single word that comes out of his mouth, have I not?” 

 

“Something like that,” Jesse says, ignoring Genji’s protest. “But I must say I find it rather enlightening.” 

 

“Curious, considering he has nothing enlightening to share.”

 

“Hey!” Genji turns to Zenyatta. Jesse can’t see his face, but he can hear the plea in his voice. “Master, won’t you defend my honor?”

 

“Is it appropriate to intercede on your brotherly teasing now?” Zenyatta asks, his orbs rotating slowly. “I was not certain.”

 

“I’d say you plum missed your chance,” Jesse grins. Hanzo doesn’t smile, but the look on his face is smug, and Jesse finds himself with a third helping of noodles not long after. 

 

Genji and Zenyatta leave right after lunch, although it isn’t quite clear if for more of Genji’s unconventional tour or to go back to the temple. Jesse stays. His head still hurts from the arcade music - an establishment that clearly didn’t have werewolves in mind when they decided on the volume. 

 

The shop has emptied out completely and the afternoon light is pleasantly dimmed by dark clouds and the occasional downpour. The patter of rain is almost soothing. Hanzo hasn’t bothered with turning on the lights save for a string of them right above the counter, bathing the shop in warm light. 

 

Hanzo brings him a cup of tea and a quick whiff informs him that it’s a different kind from the one Hanzo usually drinks. 

 

“You look tired,” Hanzo says. 

 

“I resent the accusation.” Jesse curls his fingers around the warm cup. 

 

“You would have thought that just one morning with my brother you exhaust you? You must be getting old. I thought you had more stamina than this.” He’s teasing and it’s a good look on him. 

 

Jesse grunts. “You’d know my stamina better than most.” 

 

Rather than flustered, Hanzo looks... almost pleased. That perk Jesse up a bit too. 

 

“You should rest,” Hanzo says, his tone imperious; entirely at odds with the look in his eyes. Soft. Something in Jesse’s chest that he can’t examine too closely lurches. 

 

“And leave you here on your lonesome? That’s askin’ a lot of me, Hanzo.”

 

“I have been alone far longer than I have known you,” Hanzo tells him. He means to tease, Jesse can tell, but just the thought of it makes Jesse feel some kinda way. It ain’t a good stomach-flop. 

 

“Yeah, well,” he begins, and can’t figure how to finish. Hanzo doesn’t seem to notice, propping one hand on his hip, the other lifting a cup of his own. He drinks deeply, and Jesse catches himself examining the exquisite bob of his throat.

 

God help him but he’s in too deep already. No point in denying it. 

 

“Maybe I don’t want to leave,” he says. 

 

The curve of Hanzo’s smile is soft. “Even if it means falling asleep on my counter?” 

 

“Honey, I’d roll up on the floor by your feet if you asked me to.” 

 

“I will not.” He sets his cup down and with a casualness that’s not quite convincing, he covers Jesse’s hand with his. 

 

Jesse’s throat feels tight and his heart way too big for his own chest. “I figured as much,” he says and lets his fingers slide into the spaces between Hanzo’s. He doesn’t let himself dwell on the thought that it’s a perfect fit. 

 

Outside, the wind pushes the rain against the tall windows of the shop. Jesse hopes the weather’s enough to keep customers away. Preferably for the rest of the day. 

 

“So,” he tries, clearing his throat. “Tonight. Your place or mine?”

 

Presumptuous, he knows, but Jesse’s always been one to dive in head first. At least Hanzo’s seemed charmed by it thus far. His eyebrows quirk upward before he says, mirth thick in his voice, “My brother has returned home.”

 

“I know that,” Jesse says, plaintive. It’s selfish of him he knows; Genji’s got every right to Hanzo’s attention, far more than Jesse does. Jesse and Genji are both running on borrowed time here as it is. In Genji’s case, though, that’s entirely by choice. 

 

He wants Hanzo. Not necessarily to himself, but just… to be near him, for whatever time he has. He fiddles with Hanzo’s fingers, tracing a thumb over the divot between each knuckle. Hanzo makes a quiet, amused sort of noise.

 

“Mine, I suppose.”

 

Jesse grins down at their fingers like a goddamn fool. 

 

“I bet you haven’t eaten anything again all day.” 

 

Hanzo sighs but doesn’t pull his hand away. “Not this again.”

 

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to berate you or nothin'. Just making dinner plans.” Jesse smiles. “I could cook you something real nice. I don’t know if I’d find all the ingredients I need…”

 

“We could always just let me cook and avoid the hospital altogether,” Hanzo says and the little teasing smile makes Jesse’s heart beat faster. 

 

“Hey! I’m a good cook! Just ask -”

 

Hanzo’s smile grows teeth. “Your boss? Your  _ abuela _ ?” 

 

“Now that’s just… Okay, there’s some truth to that. But still…” Jesse runs his thumb over Hanzo’s knuckles again, contemplating. “We could always let someone else cook for us, you know?” 

 

“My brother?” 

 

“A real cook.” 

 

“Genji is a real cook.” 

 

“Yes, but…” Jesse groans. “Sugar, you’re not making it easy for me here. I want to take you out. Somewhere nice. Fancy. Like you deserve.” 

 

Hanzo blinks. He doesn’t pull away but for a moment, Jesse fears he’s stepped too far too quickly. 

 

“Look,” he says. “If you’re not comfortable -”

 

“I might know a place,” Hanzo says, looking at their hands. “Or two.” 

 

Warmth spreads through Jesse’s chest, all slow and syrupy. “Are you just saying this in the hope of seeing me out my flannel?” 

 

“I have seen you out of your flannel before. More than once.” 

 

Jesse gives him a toothy grin. “Bet I could surprise you. I clean up real nice.”

 

“I close late,” Hanzo says, almost like he’s reminding himself. Jesse leans forward.

 

“You’re the boss, right? You can get someone else to do that.”

 

Hanzo’s brow furrows. “I suppose that might be acceptable…”

 

“Sure it is! What’re boss powers for if not to be exercised once or twice.”

 

“I have already taken a day off this week,” Hanzo reminds him, the corner of his mouth lifting. 

 

“Oh darlin’, if I told you some people take weeks off at a time, I think your pretty little head might combust.”

 

Hanzo laughs. “I know what a vacation is.”

 

“Are you sure about that? I don’t really see you relaxing at the beach with a piña colada in your hand.” 

 

“I might surprise you.” 

 

Jesse can’t help but grin. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

 

And then right there, Hanzo surprises him once more by throwing a quick look over to the front door and leaning forward to kiss Jesse under the warm light of the fairy lights above. 

 

Jesse slips his fingers up into Hanzo’s hair, tugging lightly. Hell, he’s gonna miss this. Hanzo. How he‘s even managed to get used to being this close to someone when they’ve only started making time for the last few days is beyond Jesse. 

 

But he isn’t gonna put stock in a matebond notion now. He just ain’t. Quickest thing in the world to spook pretty boys right out the door. 

 

“You’ll let me take you to dinner, then?” he asks, nudging his nose against Hanzo‘s. Hanzo makes a noise that sounds like affirmation to Jesse. “Somewhere nice?”

 

“Tomorrow,” Hanzo concedes, just as quiet. He leans into a kiss so gentle that Jesse’s heart breaks, just a little. 

 

But it ain’t the stirrings of a Bond. Just chemistry and loneliness.

 

“You need one whole day to prepare for leaving early for once?” 

 

Hanzo taps his forehead against Jesse’s. “It is only polite.” 

 

Jesse laughs quietly. “I’ll be patient then.”

 

“I will enjoy watching you try.” 

  
They’re silent for while, just the two of them and the sound of the rain outside. Jesse knows that technically the shop is still open and that any minute now a hungry customer could disturb their little peace, but he doesn’t want to stop. If he only focuses on this, holding Hanzo’s hand and kissing him, he can almost ignore the uncertainty that looms on the horizon. 


	12. Chapter 12

Genji cooks for them again - fried pork cutlet on a bed of rice, curry sauce that has Jesse all but weeping into his tea. There’s sake, though it doesn’t flow as freely as the night before at Hanzo’s discretion, and Jesse doesn’t have to physically carry him to bed. 

 

He does get an eyeful in the bath, and barely manages to get Hanzo and himself out of the steamy room and into Hanzo’s bedroom before he sinks his teeth into his chest. Hanzo looks particularly debauched like this, silk robe splayed around him, his body bared but for his arms, Jesse’s teeth marks left in no particular fashion or order. A chaos of bruises to be kissed, worshipped. 

 

Jesse leaves a few on Hanzo‘s inner thighs that earn him primal growls from the throat of a beast not strictly human. The things he does between those thighs grant him a muted, hastily silenced roar.

 

Jesse looks up at him through his eyelashes. “Still would love to hear you.”

 

Hanzo is panting, his face flushed not just because of the sake. He looks lovely like this, his hair a mess and his lips red from kissing and biting. Even now he’s trying to frown but there’s no heat behind it. “Perhaps you just have not given me reason to -” 

 

Jesse gently runs his thumb over the head of Hanzo’s cock and Hanzo clasps his hand over his mouth before he can finish his sentence. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

There’s definitely a frown now. “You are an evil man.” 

 

Jesse can see the muscles in his abdomen twitch as he slowly pumps his cock. “And you always complain about me being so impatient…” 

 

It’s a good thing he managed to hold himself off from Hanzo’s body that first night under the full moon, or  _ ravage _ might’ve taken its old definition back. Hanzo might’ve killed him if Jesse’d gotten his fangs and claws anywhere near that pretty piece of his. As he is now, Jesse holds Hanzo steady as he tongues over and around the swollen head. 

 

Hanzo fists his hand in Jesse’s hair, in the sheets, cursing and growling with more and more desperation the longer Jesse teases. He’s got an ornery streak in him a mile long, and there are fine blue scales slowly creeping from the flush over Hanzo’s chest; he doesn’t think he’ll stop himself any time soon.

 

“Jesse,” Hanzo snarls, his fingers like knives against Jesse’s scalp. Jesse presses a wet kiss under the head of Hanzo’s cock, makes it jump. 

 

“Hey there, pretty,” he drawls, licking a slow stripe from root to tip. “Mm, sweetheart, you look mighty fine here like this. Just look at you.”

 

Hanzo hisses, one of his ankles dragging up to dig into the meat of Jesse’s back.

 

Jesse sucks the head of his cock into his mouth just to see Hanzo arch his back, one hand still in his hair and the other ripping into the sheets. It’s a sight to behold. Someone should take a picture or paint it or make a fucking sculpture out of it - anything to make it last. 

 

Hanzo curses in Japanese, still under his breath, even though there are now scales peppering his neck as well. Jesse reaches out with one hand and covers the one Hanzo has twisted in the sheets, linking his fingers with him before swallowing him down in one smooth movement. 

 

With no hand to muffle the sound, Hanzo’s roar echoes off the walls and Jesse feels a shiver running down all the way from his back to his curling toes. He has to fight the urge to rut against the futon, just to find some relief. 

 

Jesse struggles to keep his own sharper bits subdued, pulling away from Hanzo when it gets to be a little too much. He drags himself up Hanzo‘s body, caging his head between Jesse’s elbows as he kisses him, long and deep, rutting against him. There’s no finesse to the way he moves against Hanzo - it’s all eager instinct and desire, snuffling down Hanzo‘s neck to sink his teeth into hot flesh. 

 

The scales there stop his teeth from pricking skin, but Jesse’s delighted to find them still there. He runs his tongue along a strip of blue, feeling the delicate shape of each individual scale. Hanzo tastes sharper here, while his skin tastes of salt and - faintly - soap. 

 

Hanzo‘s nails dig sharply into his shoulder, tearing a growl from Jesse’s throat. Hanzo growls in return, a deeper sound that makes way for panting and demands bitten out through teeth as sharp as glass.

 

It’s never pleading with Hanzo. Never begging. He demands what he wants and Jesse’s never been happier to follow orders. If Reyes could see him now, so willing to hand over the reins. The thought makes him chuckle. The short moment of distraction is enough for Hanzo to grab him and flip him on his back, stronger and faster than humanly possible. 

 

He straddles Jesse, sits up and shucks off his robe completely. Jesse can only stare. Hanzo looks almost regal looking down at him, his hair falling over his shoulder and small blue scales creeping up his cheekbones. He leans forward and runs his hands over Jesse’s chest, his sharp nails scraping against his skin. 

 

Jesse bares his throat before Hanzo even starts to lean down and it earns him a little smile, sharp white teeth flashing in the low light. Hanzo noses at the underside of his jaw and down his neck, taking his scent in with a deep breath. Jesse digs his fingers into Hanzo’s thighs, not sure if he can hold still for much longer. 

 

“Hey,” he grunts, feeling up the scales down Hanzo’s spine, “you’re drivin’ me nuts, Hanzo - ’m gonna...”

 

“Be silent,” Hanzo growls, moving against Jesse with far more grace than he ought. Jesse barks with laughter, dragging Hanzo off kilter with a hand on his ass. 

 

“Honey, if you want silence, I hate to tell you that you’re sleepin’ with the wrongest man -”

 

“Speak,” Hanzo hisses, jutting his hips against Jesse’s with violence, “ _English,_ cowboy.”

 

_ “Fuck.”  _

 

Jesse comes with Hanzo‘s claws in his hair, bucking so hard he nearly dislodges his passenger.

 

Hanzo stills for a second, but when he pushes himself up on his elbows to look at Jesse, the smile on his face is almost fond. “I will take that as a compliment.” 

 

“Fuck,” Jesse pants, his heart still racing. “You should. Fuck.” His hands are roaming over Hanzo’s back. “You’re just too goddamn -”

 

Hanzo kisses him until Jesse doesn’t think he could form a coherent sentence even if he tried. He can still feel Hanzo’s cock, heavy and hard between them, but when he moves to touch it, Hanzo swats his hand away. 

 

“I am not finished.”

 

“Yeah, let me help with that, sweetheart…” 

 

Hanzo pushes his hand aside once more and slowly moves down, only stopping from time to time to leave a mark on Jesse’s skin. By the time he runs a finger along Jesse’s cock, he’s half hard again - the kind of werewolf stamina they don’t tell you about as a pup. He’s still sensitive though and Hanzo smiles at the sharp gasp it draws from him when he applies just the tiniest bit of pressure right underneath the head. 

 

The smile is still there when he settles in between Jesse’s thighs, pushing up one of his legs to spread him further. Jesse’s eyes go wide when he see him reaching for the small bottle of lube and a condom next to the futon. Anticipation flutters in his chest like an overexcited bird. 

 

“You gonna put those away?” he rasps, wiggling his own claws. Thoughtful, Hanzo drags his talons down Jesse’s belly until they’re blunted once more. 

 

“For now,” he says, and presses a slick finger inside him. Jesse closes his eyes, leaning back to allow himself the simple sensation of touch. Being touched. Hanzo opens him up real slow, unhurried-like, like he’s got nowhere better to be. Jesse’s metal hand holds onto the sheets as his stomach quivers, toes flexing.

 

“Aw, honey,” he breathes, peeking over the expanse of his own body to watch Hanzo work. Blue scales shimmer down his shoulders in the dim, warm light of Hanzo’s bedside lamp. Hanzo glances up. Jesse grins like a fool. “You’re really somethin’.”

 

Hanzo huffs, but quiet. Slips a third finger into Jesse. “I should say the same.”

 

Jesse takes a shuddering breath and then exhales slowly, only to gasp when Hanzo curls his fingers just so. Hanzo seems to enjoy it, the little sounds he draws out of him - so sensitive to every single one of his movements. 

 

He says something in Japanese that Jesse doesn’t understand but he smiles and turns his head to press a small kiss on this side of his knee, so Jesse assumes it was something nice. The expression on Hanzo’s face as he watches him is almost too much but Jesse doesn’t want to look away either. 

 

Hanzo slowly pulls out his fingers and Jesse’s not even a little bit ashamed of the whine that escapes him. 

 

“Turn around,” Hanzo says and pats his leg. 

 

Some part of Jesse almost yearns to follow the order but he holds still for a moment. “No,” he says and stays strong even when Hanzo lifts an eyebrow. “I wanna see you.” 

 

Hanzo looks at him, searching his face for… something. But then his expression softens and he nods.

 

He’d opened Jesse up with almost clinical precision, and when he finally sinks into Jesse, something about his demeanor makes him think twice about why. Hanzo gasps, Jesse’s thigh pressed up in a vice-like grip, his scales rapidly spreading across his abdomen, his arms. He closes his eyes, pressing his cheek to Jesse’s calf where it rests on his shoulder. 

 

“First time fuckin’ a man?” Jesse asks, panting at the stretch of him, the fullness. Hanzo’s eyes snap open, dart up to meet his. 

 

“What?” he asks. Jesse grins all wobbly and reaches up, brushing the hair from Hanzo’s forehead. Pinches his cheek. 

 

“‘S okay. You’re doin’ real well. Almost couldn’t tell.”

 

Hanzo averts his gaze and for a second Jesse thinks he’s embarrassed. But then Hanzo takes a deep controlled breath and he can see the spreading of scales slowing down to a halt. When he looks at Jesse again, his eyes are molten gold. 

 

“Hey,” Jesse says, cupping the side of his face with one hand. “In your own time.” 

 

Hanzo nods and takes a moment longer before he slowly pulls back. He keeps eye contact as he rocks back into him, slowly and controlled, with a little frown in between his eyebrows. The feeling of it is almost overwhelming. The sight of Hanzo even more so. 

 

“Gorgeous,” Jesse says, a little breathless. “Fucking gorgeous.” 

 

Hanzo turns his head and kisses the palm of his hand. The next roll of his hips comes with a little more confidence and he smiles at Jesse’s wordless little moans. 

 

He fists his own cock and this time Hanzo doesn’t stop him. It’s driving him a little crazy to see Hanzo, his Hanzo of perfect control, all shook up because of Jesse. 

 

“Hey,” he says again, laughing breathlessly to himself. Hanzo glances up at his face, eyes sharper than any blade Jesse’s ever seen. “You breathe fire, sugar? Looks like you’re about to.”

 

Hanzo bares his teeth, pushing into Jesse a little harder. He yelps, and laughs again, squeezing at his own dick and around Hanzo’s inside him. “Some guys worry ‘bout etiquette in bed,” Jesse huffs, grinning up at Hanzo’s pretty, exasperated face. “So lemme just say: you can come inside a' me.”

 

Hanzo takes a deep breath in through his nose and starts fucking into him in earnest. He snaps his hips forward hard and Jesse throws his head back with a little shout. Almost immediately he feels Hanzo’s lips on his throat. His hot breath, his tongue, his teeth. 

 

He strokes his own cock a little harder, trying to keep up with Hanzo. Determined to finish with him. Hanzo’s pace is fast, unrelenting, and every thought slips through Jesse’s hands as he fucks him into the futon. There are no more clever quips, no more jokes. Just Hanzo’s name falling from his lips again and again and again. 

 

Hanzo comes with a hoarse cry, buried deep inside of Jesse and every muscle of his body taut. The sound of it is enough to push Jesse over the edge as well, aided by the feeling of Hanzo’s sharp teeth digging into the skin of his shoulder. 

 

Hanzo stills on top of him, panting and heavy. His skin is slick with sweat and there’s a sticky mess between them, but Jesse hopes he never leaves. He likes the weight of him, pressing him into the futon. And he likes the way he shivers when he runs his hand over his spine. 

 

“Hey,” he says after a moment, his voice hoarse. “You okay?” 

 

Hanzo pushes himself up on his elbows. His cheeks are covered in blue scales and his eyes are still golden but he nods and kisses him, long and deep. Jesse leans into it, though his smile breaks it not too long after.

 

The way Hanzo pulls out and ties the condom off breaks the veneer of luxury just a bit, and Jesse whines just a touch when Hanzo moves away toward the en suite bathroom, he ain’t ashamed to admit. Might be on account of separation; might be on account of the prime view he has of Hanzo’s ass as he goes.

 

When Hanzo returns, hands clean and fresh, he wipes Jesse down with a wet cloth that smells vaguely herbal. Jesse can’t help but trace a metal thumb down Hanzo’s jaw. 

 

“Get down here so I can love on you a little,” he says, patting the space beside him. Hanzo gives him a funny expression before he folds the cloth and sets it aside to stretch out against Jesse. 

 

There are still a few scales left on his cheeks and shoulders but Hanzo makes no move to suppress them. He’s as comfortable as Jesse has ever seen him and there’s something really nice about knowing that he’s the reason for it. 

 

Hanzo throws an arm over his torso and rests his head on Jesse’s shoulder. 

 

“Do you want the blanket?” Jesse asks but Hanzo makes an impatient noise when he moves to get it. 

 

“Later,” he says and hooks his leg over Jesse’s, pressing himself even closer. “You are warm enough.” 

 

Jesse chuckles. “I forgot that you’re into that.” He considers making a lizard joke for a second but decides he can live without seeing Hanzo’s scowl for a little while longer. He takes a deep breath instead. The smell of sex is strong in the air but the scent of the dragon is even stronger. The last time he smelled it this clearly was back at the dojo, when he pressed his nose in the crook of Hanzo’s neck. 

 

Jesse sighs, boneless against the futon, twining metal fingers in Hanzo’s hair. He shifts subtly to feel the aching flare in his backside. A pleased rumble resonates in his chest, thoroughly pleased. 

 

“You are somethin’ else,” he groans, grinning at the ceiling.

  
“Sleep,” Hanzo quietly commands, and reaches over Jesse to turn off the light.


	13. Chapter 13

Jesse’s first thought upon waking is less of a thought, more of a disheartened acknowledgment that the space beside him is cold. The second (arguably first) thought is to check the time. The third, far smugger than it has any right being, is that Hanzo must’ve thoroughly worn him out to have slipped off and been gone so long that Jesse hadn’t even noticed. 

 

He takes a brief shower in the en-suite bathroom to wash the lingering stench of sweat and sex from his skin (woeful, the wolf in him protests) and pops out to slip back into last night’s clothes. 

 

In the kitchen he finds Genji and Hanzo alone, standing side by side and sculpting rice balls together.

 

Even from the doorway he can see the two angry marks on the side of Hanzo’s neck. He knows exactly how and where they continue underneath his clothes. Feeling a little bold, he steps up and ducks in for a little kiss on one of his cheeks. Hanzo clicks his tongue but doesn’t move away. 

 

“Good morning,” Jesse says and leans against the counter. “Where's your metal friend?” 

 

“He is still meditating,” Genji says and puts the finished rice balls aside to scoop up another handful. 

 

Jesse makes a face. “I don’t think I could sit still long enough for that.” 

 

“I do not imagine you could,” Hanzo says with a sly smile. 

 

“You should try it some time,” Genji says, a little more enthusiastic than anticipated. “It is a very good way to relieve stress.” 

 

Jesse laughs. “I can think of a few other ways to help with that.” 

 

Genji’s smile grows mischievous and Jesse doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick to the bite marks on Jesse's neck. It’s not like he made any effort to hide them. “I do not doubt that.”

 

Jesse reaches up, stretching his whole body toward the ceiling. Pretty sure he’s too young for all the joints he hears popping and cracking. Genji snorts, but Hanzo looks unimpressed when Jesse steals a bite of salted mackerel from over his shoulder. 

 

“Patience,” Hanzo tsks, whapping Jesse’s hand with a pair of  chopsticks. Jesse hisses, drawing back to suck on the salty, tangy residue left on his thumb. 

 

“Have a heart, Shimada-san,” he pleads, shoving his hands down deep in his pockets. “Whose fault is it that I’m so hungry in the first place?”

 

“Your own.”

 

Hanzo doesn’t even make the attempt to hurry up, even though they can all hear Jesse’s stomach growling. 

 

Genji laughs. “And I thought the insatiable hunger of the werewolf was just another myth.” 

 

“I am not convinced that all of his kind are like this,” Hanzo says. 

 

Jesse makes a face and eyes the mackerel again. “I’ve got a healthy appetite, that’s all.” They don’t need to know that his grandmother used to tease him about having that full moon hunger every day of the month. 

 

“Debatable.” 

 

The brothers don’t even hurry up when Zenyatta floats through the door a few minutes later, taking their sweet time for reasons that Jesse can only see as a personal attack. But then again, that might just be the hunger talking. 

 

Hanzo looks as immaculate as always - long hair tied back low, the silk sleeves of his garb tucked up to leave his forearms bare. Despite the scent interference, Jesse only has to lean in a little to tell that Hanzo did  _ not _ shower this morning after he got up. He grins, biting the inside of his cheek.  _ Dirty bird.  _

 

“You’ll let me walk you to work again, won’t you?” he begs, reaching for a freshly-made rice ball. Hanzo doesn’t stop him, but smirks when Jesse nearly drops the thing for how hot it is.

 

“I do not see how I could stop you.”

 

“You need to swing by here again before our hot date?”

 

“Date?” Genji perks up. Hanzo glowers in his direction.

 

“It is none of your business,” he sniffs. “Do not meddle.”

 

Genji’s face is the picture of innocence. “I am not meddling. Just being curious.”

 

“It always ends the same with you.” 

 

Genji huffs but winks at Jesse before he answers. “What do you think I’m going to do? Spy on you?” 

 

Hanzo looks up and narrows his eyes. “I would not put it past you.” And then, after a moment of hesitation, “Do not get any ideas.” 

 

Genji’s bright laughter fills the room. “Oh, wipe that frown off your face, brother. I am sure Zenyatta and I have more exciting things to do than spy on you and McCree.” 

 

Hanzo glowers at him for a few seconds longer before getting back to preparing breakfast. He’s moving a little faster now, even though Jesse has the suspicion it has less to do with his hunger and more with getting away from his brother’s nosiness. 

 

“You can retrieve here tonight,” he says as he steps closer to Jesse to get the tea out of the cupboard next to him. He doesn’t really look at him and Jesse could swear his cheeks look a little bit darker. “I would like to change before we leave this morning,” he says once the tea is on the counter, and moves toward the door. 

 

Up close, Jesse can definitely still smell last night on Hanzo. If it wasn’t for the other people in the room, he’d have Hanzo crowded against the counter by now.

 

“Yeah, you do that,” he says, and reaches for a rice ball before his brain clicks into gear. “Uh.” He gives Genji a couple finger guns as he backs out of the room after Hanzo. “Left my hat. I’ll just… go get that.”

 

The sound of Genji’s laughter follows him down the hall as Jesse pursues Hanzo into his bedroom. 

 

Hanzo peers over his shoulder at him from the wardrobe, brow quirked. Jesse slips the door shut behind him. “Howdy.”

 

“I am getting dressed,” Hanzo says, slipping out of his pretty floral… blouse? Jesse  _ really _ has to brush up on these things if he’s gonna watch Hanzo strip out of them. 

 

“Yeah,” Jesse says, making his way over to his half-naked… also to be identified. “Have to get undressed first, though.”

 

Hanzo sighs but when Jesse puts his arms around him, he leans back against him. 

 

Jesse has one hand splayed across his stomach and one firmly on his chest as he noses at the side of Hanzo’s neck. The scent is strong here, right where last night’s marks haven’t even begun to fade yet. “You still smell like me.” 

 

Hanzo makes a noncommittal sound but Jesse can feel his heartbeat quicken. “I thought you were hungry?”

 

“I am.” Jesse playfully bites his shoulder only to follow up with a wet kiss. He can feel Hanzo laughing even as he swats at him. 

 

“I need to prepare for work,” Hanzo says. 

 

Jesse pulls him closer, lets the hand on his stomach wander a bit lower. “Can’t you come in a little later?”

 

Hanzo snorts. “And leave early? They will think I have completely lost my work ethic.” 

 

“Now I don’t see a problem with shirkin’ all your responsibilities for a day in bed,” Jesse admits, but he sighs and contents himself with one last nip to Hanzo’s shoulder before pulling away. Still, he only goes so far as to plop down on the futon to watch Hanzo while he undresses. 

 

It’s not the first time Jesse’s noticed his trim waist, the girth of his arms, the breadth of his shoulders. Jesse presses a hand between his legs, willing himself to simmer down. “You work out, honey? Or should I get into competitive noodle shop running to bulk up like you?”

 

Hanzo snorts, slipping on a tight t-shirt that stretches in intriguing ways over his muscles before he fishes a button-up from the wardrobe. “I have been classically trained in several martial arts,” Hanzo tells him, buttoning his work shirt faster than Jesse’s ever seen it done. He glances at Jesse over his shoulder. “But I prefer archery.”

 

“An archer, huh?” Jesse leans back to mull that over - all that focus and strength, raw intensity. Yeah, he can see it. “Sure’d like to see that.”

 

Hanzo frowns. “Are all things… arousing to you?”

 

“Not all things,” Jesse says and grins. “Just everything _you_ do, sweetheart.” 

 

Hanzo rolls his eyes but Jesse’s pretty sure that’s a smile he can see tugging at the corner of his lips. 

 

Jesse manages to steal another kiss or two before they head back to the kitchen, but they sadly don’t lead to anything more, with Hanzo’s hand planted firmly on his chest every time. 

 

Genji has another wink for Jesse and a steaming cup of tea for Hanzo when they enter the kitchen. In their absence, he has finished preparing breakfast. It’s as good as anything Genji cooks but after a look at the clock hanging by the door, Hanzo practically wolfs down his food, urging Jesse to do the same. The tea must still be incredibly hot but Hanzo doesn’t even flinch as he downs it just as quickly as his food. That’s also probably the reason why he doesn’t notice that there’s no second cup anywhere in sight. 

 

For all his haste, they make it to the shop even earlier than they did the day before. There’s less hesitation this time before Hanzo pulls him down by the lapel of his shirt to kiss him goodbye. 

 

He thinks he’s finally found cloud nine as he strolls home, hands in his pockets. A low buzz alerts him to a text, and Jesse fishes his phone out. 

 

His jaunty pace slows just a hair. 

  
  


_ 09:22 _

_ C.O. Buzzkill: 15 days. Reassignation pending. _


	14. Chapter 14

Jesse has an inkling that Hanzo likes his scruffy exterior. Even so, he shaves himself baby-smooth and takes himself down to a nearby barber for a trim.

 

He hadn’t exactly brought his Sunday best along for the impromptu trip; sparing the briefest glance at his wallet, Jesse hops into a few shops in Hanamura’s shopping district to browse. It’s something of a struggle to find things for his proportions, but Jesse leaves the district with a sense of victory and a significantly lighter wallet.

 

Unable to make heads or tails out of the instructions on the tags, Jesse hand-washes his new duds and hangs them over his tiny balcony to dry.

 

The day seems to stretch out like melted toffee. Even after shopping and doing the laundry, it’s nowhere close to evening. He’s getting restless, the apartment suddenly way too small.

 

He even starts cleaning while he waits for his clothes to dry. By the time the sun stands low enough to shine directly through his streaky windows, the place looks almost presentable. He’s pretty sure he and Hanzo are going to end up at the temple again anyway, but now he at least won’t feel bad about bringing Hanzo back here instead.

 

There’s an old ironing board in the bedroom closet that an agent much more concerned with looking tidy than him probably left behind and after putting on his freshly pressed clothes, he looks rather presentable himself.

 

He leaves a little earlier than necessary, just as the sun is setting behind the roofs in the distance, but he can’t possibly sit still any longer. The streets are bathed in warm evening light and he gets even more curious looks from passers-by than usual - although he can’t quite say if it’s because of the effort he put into his appearance or because of the wide grin on his face.

 

He looks damn good if he does say so himself, and he should know - he‘d stared at himself in the mirror for the better part of an hour, just as soon as he could reasonably bring in his clothes in from outside. They’re still a little damp around the edges, but Jesse’s like a bloodhound with a scent out for Hanzo.

 

He didn’t know how fancy to expect their evening to be, so he’d gone with safe black dress slacks and a snug jacket in deep red, the material fine and unpronounceable. He wouldn’t know what to call the undershirt - something with buttons and sleeves just this side of too tight for his upper arms in red and gold plaid. (He’s gussied himself up, sure, but he’s still got an image to uphold.)

 

His spurs jingle with every step of his finest black boots as he waltzes into a flower shop where the florist looks to be ready to close up shop. He pops out again not five minutes later with a bouquet of the prettiest lilies he could find and a red carnation tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

 

The flowers might be a bit too much but if he’s going to do it he might as well do it right. In any case, Hanzo deserves it.

 

And it’s worth it for the look on his face when he greets Jesse at the door of his roon. His eyes go wide at the sight of him and wider still when he sees the flowers in his grasp.

 

“You are early,” he says, still in a robe and with his hair falling freely over his shoulders. “I am not even dressed.”

 

“Couldn’t wait anymore,” Jesse says as he steps closer and ducks in for a kiss. It’s a just a chaste, gentle one. He even keeps himself from giving Hanzo's ass a fond little squeeze. “But I brought you flowers.”

 

“I can see that. Like a… gentleman.” If he aims for mocking, his attempts are completely undermined by the color creeping up his cheeks and the little smile when he lifts the flowers up to his face to smell them. “Thank you.”

 

“Now don’t mistake me for one of them gentleman-folk,” Jesse chuckles, tugging on a damp lock of Hanzo’s hair. Hanzo steps aside to let him into his room, setting the flowers on his desk. Jesse leans against the wall to watch him move about. “Didn’t manage to slip by your brother unnoticed.”

  
Hanzo stops and stares at him, much to Jesse’s amusement. Those keen eyes dart to the bouquet on his desk and Jesse grins.

  
“Oh yeah, he saw.”

  
“... Wonderful.”

  
“Well shucks, he thought so too!”

 

Hanzo sighs. “I will never hear the end of this.”

 

“Of what? Getting picked up by a strikingly handsome man?”

 

“Yes, I am sure that is the part he will focus on.”

 

Jesse’s grin grows wider. “So you agree I’m strikingly handsome?”

 

“You are _something_.” Hanzo frowns at him as he walks over to his closet. “Do not make me rethink tonight’s plan.”

 

“You wouldn’t.”

 

Hanzo doesn’t even look up as he searches through the clothes in his closet. “A strikingly handsome man like you cannot find another date?”

 

“Maybe,” Jesse says as he saunters closer. “But this one doesn’t want to.”

 

Hanzo doesn’t push Jesse away when he runs a hand down his bare hip, nosing just under his ear. He presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to Hanzo’s neck. “I could give you some gossip of your own,” he murmurs, metal fingers slipping over Hanzo’s stomach. “‘Bout what I caught Genji up to in the courtyard with our metal friend.”

 

“I am sure I do not want to know my brother’s romantic machinations,” Hanzo informs him, rifling through his immaculate collection of silk. Jesse grins against his skin.

 

“Fair enough. Could give you an edge up, though.”

 

“I decline the knowledge. Purge it from your mind.” He makes a noise when Jesse worries at a bruise left on his shoulder from last night and halfheartedly bats him away. “Stop pawing at me. We are going to have a respectable evening out.”

 

“You’re always respectable, sugar. Does’t mean you can’t be satisfied too.”

 

“Later,” Hanzo says and slips out of his grasp before Jesse can do as much as whine about it.

 

“Later? Is that promise?”

 

“A possibility,” Hanzo says as dryly as a man half-naked and half-flustered can manage. “Are you just going to stand there and watch while I get dressed?”

 

Jesse grins. “That was the plan.”

 

Hanzo clicks his tongue. “I fear with your kind of restraint we will never make it to the restaurant.” He looks at the flowers on the desk. “Go into the kitchen and find a vase for these. I will only need a few minutes.”

 

Jesse blows him a kiss before he obeys, slipping out the door.

 

The best container he can find for the job as he goes through all the cabinets is a tall sleek glass number that he can only hope will fit the lilies comfortably. On the way back he passes what he assumes to be Genji’s room. The door is half open, faint music playing from within. Something soft and instrumental.

 

Jesse doesn’t mean to pry, but the faint glow of Zenyatta’s form catches his eye. He only gets a brief glimpse of him - metal limbs stretching and flexing as he guides his orbs around the room. Genji jumps after each one with astounding agility that might even have Lena beat, catching each orb before they can hit the walls and throwing them back at Zenyatta.

 

With a private sort of smile, Jesse moves on. Wonders idly if Hanzo might be as amenable to playing catch as his brother. He quietly laughs to himself. It’s more likely that he’d be the one doing the catching in that scenario.

 

The door to Hanzo’s room is still closed when he gets there but slides open just a few seconds after he knocks. Jesse whistles lowly.

 

“Would you look at that? And just when I thought you couldn’t get prettier.”

 

Hanzo blinks before that familiar frown settles in and he takes the vase from Jesse’s hands. “Flattery again?”

 

“Just the truth,” Jesse says and follows him into the room. He wouldn’t know what to call the outfit Hanzo has chosen for the night but it looks nice. Better than that, actually. All soft silk and flowing fabric in dark grey and a deep blue that’s the very same shades as Hanzo’s scales.

 

Hanzo puts the lilies into the vase and leaves for the bathroom to fill it with water.

 

“So are you gonna tell me where we’re going tonight?” Jesse calls after him. He follows Hanzo in a short time after to watch him take a brush to his hair, leaving the long strands looking soft as satin.

 

“You will see,” he says, and plucks a ribbon from his wrist to tie his hair up high. Silver. It’s a good look on Hanzo. Everything is a good look on Hanzo.

 

“Aw hell, sugar,” Jesse sighs, leaning against the bathroom door. “Think I must be dreamin’.”

 

“You speak nonsense again, cowboy.” Hanzo meets his eyes through the mirror. Jesse combs metal fingers through his newly trimmed hair.

 

“Dunno how someone like me managed to rope someone like you, is all.”

 

Hanzo hums, thoughtful as he turns his gaze back to his own appearance, straightening his clothes, smoothing out his eyebrows. “By supporting local business,” he deadpans.

 

“That’s all it took?”

 

“Of course,” Hanzo says with one last look into the mirror. “With your appetite, you are my best customer.” He gives him a little smile through the mirror. “I had to keep you somehow.”

 

“Well, consider me kept.” He doesn’t get pushed away this time when he steps forward and wraps his arms around Hanzo. He’s even allowed a small kiss just underneath his ear before Hanzo pats his hand on his stomach.

 

“Are you not starving by now? You did not even come by the shop today, after all.”

 

“Aw, honey.” Jesse grins as he lets Hanzo out of his arms and past him out of the bathroom. “Did you miss me?”

 

Hanzo snorts. “I think I can manage a few hours without you.”

 

Jesse’s grins grows wider. That isn't a no.

 

“C’mon then, Shimada,” Jesse says with a hand pressed to Hanzo’s lower back. “Let me wine and dine you. Like a gentleman.”

 

When they pass Genji’s room, the door is closed, the faint sound of music still drifting from within. Outside in the open air the sun is nothing but a faint memory of violet over the sky. Synthetic cherry blossom petals drift from the trees, a few daring to catch in Hanzo’s long hair. Jesse doesn’t dare try to fish them out for any number of reasons - mostly, though, because he looks so darn sweet.

 

Hanzo leads him through the streets of Hanamura, far livelier now than the times they’ve navigated the town before. Likely because now they aren’t ducking through alleyways or keeping to residential streets that lead to and from the ramen shop. The streets are relatively full with young and old alike, reveling in the cool night air after school and work. The streets are lit up with neon signs, warm light from within quaint boutiques and dinner joints packed with laughing, chatty folks.

 

The whole of it fills Jesse with pleasant buzzing energy. He brushes against Hanzo every other step as they stroll, wondering how much finagling it’d take to convince Hanzo to take his arm - how bad he might get burnt for throwing his arm around a dragon.

 

Several gazes turn their way as they pass, some tittering here and there. Jesse’s vain, but he’s not an idiot - some of those stares are for him, but he’d reckon the majority are for the fine figure at his left.

 

“I’m stirrin’ up some envy in the fine folks of Hanamura,” Jesse crows, brushing his fingers over Hanzo’s wrist. “From being on your arm.”

 

To his surprise, Hanzo doesn’t make more than a thoughtful noise at that.

 

Just beyond the busiest avenue of the district, Hanzo finally guides Jesse into a tall traditional-style building. The interior’s not unlike the Shimada estate, hardwood and off-white, muted tones and vibe. The people within greet Hanzo by name, and he takes Jesse up a narrow staircase lined with potted plants. The loft above is secluded, private, with only three tables set for two. Tea lights waver in the center of each table, casting soft light on Hanzo when he takes a seat at one table across from Jesse.

 

The open wall that allows the loft to overlook the rest of the restaurant is bisected by a polished wooden beam smothered in ivy. Hanging from the ceiling are a wide array of plants that droop and curl, forming almost a curtain between the loft and the world beyond.

 

“This _is_ fancy,” Jesse says and whistles. “You come here often?”

 

“Not anymore. It is not a place where one goes alone.” There’s no bitterness or sadness in his voice but Jesse still feels a painful tug in his chest at the idea of Hanzo being alone. It must show on his face, even if just for a second, because Hanzo goes on, “And I do not have the time. The shop…”

 

“Yeah.” While they’re still by themselves, Jesse takes the opportunity to reach over the table and gently squeeze his hand. “I’m sure glad you decided to take me, though.”

 

Hanzo smiles, and together with the warm candlelight it makes him look softer than Jesse has ever seen him. He pulls his hand back when he hears footsteps coming up the stairs behind him.

 

A young woman places two menus before them and speaks in quiet tones with Hanzo. Jesse can only make out bits and pieces before she fills their cups with tea and disappears back down the stairs. Synthetic jazz plays from speakers somewhere down on the first floor.

 

“So.” Jesse picks up the menu, regarding each little pictureless entry in tiny font as though it means anything to him. Kinda wonders why “Drinks” “Main Course” and “Desserts” are written in fancy English font when there’s not a scrap elsewhere. “What’s good?”

 

“Everything but the shellfish,” Hanzo answers blandly, without a glance to his menu. Instead, he seems content to stare at Jesse who straightens up in response.

 

“Yeah? What’re we getting, then?”

 

“You will see.”

 

Jesse sets his menu down with a little theatrical sigh. “You sure do like to be mysterious, huh?”

 

Hanzo’s lips curl into a smile. “You do not like surprises?”

 

“Depends on the one surprising me.” In his line of work, there are hardly any good surprises. Something unexpected usually means something bad. But here, with Hanzo, he’s more than happy to give control over to him.

 

“I have not disappointed you yet, have I?”

 

Jesse grins and leans a little bit forward. “I don’t think you could even if you tried, honey. I’ve liked all your… surprises so far.”

 

“I was talking about my ramen,” Hanzo says but there’s a telltale glint in his eyes.

 

“Sure you were.” He’s tempted to take Hanzo’s hand again, just to touch him, but the waitress returns far too quickly. She sets a small rectangular plate between them stacked sideways with thick, pink slices of salmon, an orchid garnish resting atop a bed of shaved something-or-other. She pours a few sauces into small ceramic trays for each of them before she departs again.

 

“Don’t get much raw fish in New Mexico,” Jesse tells him, prodding a bit of salmon with his chopsticks. He takes a bite, chewing slowly. It’s not to Jesse’s tastes, exactly, but it’s nice. Something different. He picks apart a bit of garnish and tastes it. Ginger, maybe? He looks up to see Hanzo’s bemused expression. “What.”

 

“Do all cowboys eat garnish?” He lifts the orchid with his chopsticks and sets it on Jesse’s plate. “Will you partake in this as well?”

 

“I’ll have you know, I got a real scientific brain, Shimada-san,” Jesse sniffs, soaking his second slice of salmon in soy sauce.

 

“I never doubted that for a second,” Hanzo says and lifts a piece of salmon himself.

 

“I tell you, when I take you to some of my favorite places back home, you’ll be just as lost as I am here.”

 

Hanzo blinks, his chopsticks hovering over the plate, before he breaks out into a little smile. “Will I?”

 

Jesse thinks on it for a moment. It’s not as difficult to imagine as it should be - perfect, poised Hanzo, pretty as picture, sitting across from him in some backwater dump of a diner. He deserves better than that, but even there he wouldn’t slip up.

 

“Nah,” Jesse says finally. “Probably not.”

 

Hanzo smiles and picks up another little piece of fish. “I would like to see it some day. Where you grew up.”

 

Jesse laughs but Hanzo’s not joking. “You sure about that? It’s nothin' fancy like this.”

 

“Apparently, my tastes are not as sophisticated as one might believe,” he intones dryly, sliding his gaze away from Jesse. That’s… well. Jesse picks up another hunk of… radish? And dabs it into the tray of vinegar, leaning smugly back.

 

“You’re tryin’ to insult me, darlin’, but all I heard was that _I’m to your tastes.”_

 

Hanzo’s saved from furthering the conversation when the waitress climbs the stairs again, a plate balanced on each hand. Jesse recognizes one of those scents only too well by now, his mouth watering by the time she sets the pan-fried dumplings on the table between them, and beside that a basket of tiny steamed shrimp dumplings. Jesse turns his smile to her and gives her a polite, doubtlessly butchered thank you, to which she bobs her head and smiles in response.

 

Once she disappears again, Jesse attacks the dumplings like a man possessed. “Oh, Hanzo,” he groans, “you know just what I like,” and sinks his teeth into one despite the heat. He hisses even so, setting the other half down as Hanzo laughs at his pain.

 

“What is it you foreigners say?” Hanzo asks, taking a steamed dumpling for himself. “Patience is virtuous?”

 

“A virtue. Ain’t got many of those,” Jesse mumbles, blowing on the other half of his dumpling and soaking it in some peanutty sauce. With the time to savor his next bite, Jesse nods to himself. “It’s real good,” he says, reaching for another. “Not as good as yours, o’ course.”

 

Hanzo laughs. “You do not have to say such things for the sake of my ego.”

 

“You callin' me a liar?”

 

“I am accusing you of flattery.” Hanzo dips his dumpling into the peanut sauce with much more grace than Jesse could ever muster. “And we both know you are usually guilty of that.”

 

“You don't know what you're talkin' about.” Jesse tries the shrimp dumplings next. They’re just as good and just as hot and he has to swallow down a curse when they burn the roof of his mouth.

 

Hanzo watches him with great interest, seemingly much more enamored with watching him eat than the food itself. “I take it it is to your liking?”

 

“That’d be an understatement,” Jesse says, already reaching for the next one. “I should always let you choose my food for me.”

 

“I have watched you pick dishes on my menu for weeks,” Hanzo says with a little smile. “I am fairly confident that I know all about _your_ tastes by now.”

 

As for Hanzo himself, his tastes seem to run into the bizarre - he has a particular liking for the cold seaweed salad that comes later, too sweet for Jesse’s liking. He eats the whole tray of broiled squid but for the single piece Jesse tried, just to be polite. And tofu - boy does he like tofu. Two more small trays of fried, spiced tofu were placed before them, and Hanzo all but demanded Jesse take part. They were better than he imagined, but still… tofu.

 

Jesse figures the meal would’ve been done by now, with so many appetizers settling in their bellies, but to his surprise the dishes keep coming. Three long, thin plates of ornately decorated sushi come next, filled to bursting with color and flavor. These, he likes.

 

Still, he balks when the waitress returns with a tray and a tiny mechanism below it. She lights the circular apparatus beneath the metal bowl, and a ring of fire lights, heating the bowl from below. The fragrant broth in the bowl begins to simmer as she fills it with vegetables, fish, and noodles.

 

“I think I’m gonna burst,” Jesse says, eying the bowl warily. Hanzo smirks, stirring the pot after the waitress leaves.

 

“You forfeit to dinner so easily?”

 

“To think, you always tease me about eating so much...”

 

“Do I?” Hanzo’s face is pure innocence.

 

It turns out that even after several dishes and feeling like he couldn’t possibly eat any more, there’s still room for food this good. He groans in pleasure with every second bite and it sounds a little shameless even to his ears, but Hanzo seems to find it amusing.

 

“I suspected you would like this,” he says, fishing a few pieces of fish out of the bowl for himself.

 

Jesse laughs. “You know me too well.”

 

Hanzo looks lost in thought for a moment. “My father used to take us here sometimes. Genji used to be able to eat as much as you do now. Even when he was just a boy.” He smiles at the memory. Jesse can count the times he willingly talked about his family on one hand, so he sits still and waits for him to continue. “But when he was finished he would sneak into the kitchen and watch the cooks. I am sure he got in the way but they humored him nevertheless.”

 

Jesse has no problem imagining that. “Did you go with him?”

 

“Sometimes.”

 

Jesse leans his chin on a hand, just picturing it. “Bet you were a cute kid,” he muses as the waitress wanders up. She pours them both a small cup of something clear and fragrant and leaves the ceramic bottle with them.

 

“Umeshu,” Hanzo tells him taking a cup for himself. “Plum wine. When we were small, our father would allow us a sip if we behaved ourselves at dinner.” He smiles at the memory, taking a swallow.

 

“Can’t imagine that was too hard for you,” Jesse chuckles, taking a drink himself. It’s pleasant - sweet, not even a ghost of a bite. Might as well be fruit juice, but for the subtle flavor.

 

“No,” he agrees, and tops them both up. “Genji was not so reserved. He would pout when I had a taste of Father’s umeshu and he did not.”

 

“Good thing you’re both all grown up now.” Jesse takes another sip.

 

Hanzo laughs. “He will not touch it now. It is too sweet for him, he says. I think it was being denied that made it so desirable to him.”

 

“Naturally.” He finishes his cup only to have it refilled immediately. “He’s missing out.”

 

Hanzo shrugs. “He has other indulgences now.”

 

“When I was a kid , my uncle used to make this godawful moonshine. Nasty stuff. Could use it to get the paint right off a car. But I begged him to try it every time he brought it out.”

 

“Not quite umeshu,” Hanzo says and takes a sip from his cup.

 

“Yeah, imagine the right opposite of this in taste and quality.” Jesse laughs. “My grandmother always told us about people who’d gone blind from bad moonshine but that didn’t put us off.”

 

Hanzo looks both startled and impressed by the prospect. Jesse gives him a wink and lets the plum wine roll over his tongue.

 

With no small amount of wonderment, Jesse watches him take down the rest of the hotpot, and groans when a tall glass bowl of mixed fruit is set between them. “What’re you tryin’ to do, darlin’? Kill me?”

 

Hanzo plucks a cube of watermelon from the pile. “With an assortment of fruit?”

 

“Whatever works, I guess,” Jesse sighs, and helps himself to the cantaloupe.

 

“Yet you still eat.”

 

“It would be a shame not to,” Jesse says. Even the fruit is great. He’s ready to suspect magic.

 

“A black hole,” Hanzo muses with a little smile.

 

“That’s what makes me your best customer, right?”

 

“Among other things.”

 

Jesse’d gladly eat a hundred more dishes if it meant sitting here with Hanzo just a little bit longer. They’re still the only people in the loft and the voices from downstairs are nothing but muted background noise. He can’t help but wonder if Hanzo may have had a hand in this. He wouldn’t put it past him to pay for some privacy.

 

In any case, he decides to enjoy it while it lasts and reaches over the table to take Hanzo’s hand. Hanzo doesn’t pull away but instead laces his fingers with Jesse's, seemingly completely casual, while picking another piece of watermelon from the bowl.

 

Once the table is cleared of food, and the waitress has set another bottle before them and refilled their cups, Hanzo eyes the hand in his pensively.

  
There's something that doesn't sit quite right with his expression, and how he doesn't quite look Jesse in the eye until he does.

 

“How long are you to remain in Hanamura?”


	15. Chapter 15

“How long are you to remain in Hanamura?” Hanzo asks, apropos of nothing. Jesse feels his heart jumpstart, his stomach drop. Rubbing his cheek with metallic fingers, he sighs.

 

“Couple weeks. Got the news this morning.”

 

“I see.” Hanzo’s expression doesn’t change, though his countenance is far more somber.

 

“Yeah,” Jesse mumbles. He lowers the hand from his face and clasps Hanzo’s in both of his. “Don’t really like to think about it. Kinda wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening.”

 

“Negligent,” Hanzo tells him. Jesse smiles, though he doesn’t feel any real humor in it.

 

“Maybe. Don’t feel right, though. I… shoot, Hanzo, I really didn’t wanna talk about this on such a nice night.”

 

“Would it have been a better topic on a miserable night?” Hanzo asks, peering over at him. Jesse’s laugh is a quiet thing.

 

“Nah,” he admits. “Probably not.”

 

“I am not in the habit of ignoring the inevitable,” Hanzo says but he doesn’t pull his hand away, which… Jesse doesn’t how to read that. He just knows that his chest feels too tight, every fiber of him yearning to move on from this topic.

 

“I understand if you…” Jesse stops and sighs. All the words that come to mind seem clumsy somehow, too big and awkward to unpack in soft candlelight and traditional Japanese music. “It’s not my choice to leave. But I understand if you don’t wanna let this go any further. Break it off before we’re in too deep.”

 

Hanzo looks at him, his face unreadable. “I think it may be a little late for that.”

 

“Oh.” He feels like he did back at the dojo, all the wind knocked out of him with one precise punch to the chest. “Uh. Sorry.”

 

Hanzo shakes his head. “I am not.”

 

Jesse feels his lips part, mouth hanging open like a simpleton. He shuts it with a snap and laughs quietly to himself. “Yeah,” he says, drawing one hand back through his hair. “Me neither.”

 

“I know nothing about you,” Hanzo says, narrowing his eyes. Jesse shrugs.

 

“Not nothin’. You know my name and my dietary habits.”

 

When Hanzo laughs, something in Jesse’s chest grows wings. _“Jesse McCree,_ and _abysmal.”_

 

“You should have a higher opinion of your product, Shimada-san.”

 

Hanzo releases Jesse’s hand to wave his own in the air dismissively before he downs a cup of plum wine in one go. There’s color high in his cheeks already. “You know what I mean. I know nothing of your past, nothing of your future. Even your present alludes me.”

 

Jesse grimaces down into his own cup. “This’d be a lot easier if you’d just Google me,” he sighs, emptying his cup as well. He refills them both this time. “I’m… part of Overwatch,” he says, quiet. Peers at Hanzo for his reaction. There’s a startled flicker across Hanzo’s face, almost disbelief. But he reaches acceptance awfully quick, to his merit.

 

“I see.”

 

“Yeah. Not undercover, just kinda… laying low for a bit.” He rubs the back of his head. “My… boss gave me something of an impromptu vacation somewhere discreet. So here I am. Thought I’d spend the whole time climbing the walls tryin’ not to cause trouble until I was called back to action, but uh…” He huffs, rubbing the side of his neck. “Then I met you. Kinda fucked up the easy in-and-out aspect of it. You make it real tough to go.”

 

Hanzo opens his mouth and closes it again, taking another moment to gather his thoughts. “I thought the people in Overwatch were more…”

 

“Heroic?” Jesse asks. “With their faces on posters and all over the news?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“Yeah. That’s part of it. I belong to a division that’s a little bite more… covert.”

 

“Ah.” Hanzo lifts his cup as if to drink but sets it down on the table again. “It is not what I expected.”

 

Jesse takes a deep shaky breath. “I’ve gotta say, I have a hard time reading you right now. It’s a little unnerving.” He tries for a laugh but it sounds about as tense as he feels.

 

“I will not…” Hanzo clicks his tongue as he looks for the right expression. “Run for a hill. If that is what you feared. I think I expected something more troubling than this.”

 

“There’s other stuff. In my past. Things I’m not exactly proud of.”

 

“This is the truth for most men.”

 

Jesse’s mouth twists, a wry grin. “Maybe. Probably not as bad as my truth, though.”

 

“The man you are now,” Hanzo says, lifting his cup while his eyes remain on Jesse. “Is he the same man as you were in this distasteful past?”

 

Jesse rubs at his jaw. Usually Angela is the one to put him on the spot like this, uncomfortable truths. At least when Reyes does it, Jesse can bite back. “Same name,” Jesse says, wrinkling his brow at the taste the Deadlock Gang leaves in his mouth. “Same gun.”

 

Hanzo waits, watching. Jesse can’t lower his eyes. He breathes out slow.

 

“But… nah. I figure they’re not the same.” This time, his smile comes a little easier, more to reassure himself than Hanzo. “Least, I hope they’re not.”

 

The toe of Hanzo’s shoe meets his calf under the table, a gentle prod. “That is all that matters to me.”

 

Jesse takes a deep breath. The laugh that follows is all relief, nervousness still making his heart beat fast. “You’re really something,” he says and runs his hand through his hair. And then, a little more quiet, “Thank you.”

 

Hanzo nods, his foot under the table a reassuring pressure against Jesse’s leg. “This work of yours,” Hanzo says after a moment, swirling the wine in his cup. “Is it dangerous?”

 

“Sometimes,” Jesse says. “It’s mostly… traveling. Training and planning. Waiting.”

 

“But you enjoy it?”

 

“I work with good people. My C.O. is a hardass but he’s good at what he does. He… cares. Don’t tell him I said that.” Jesse sighs. “This is the first time I’m… havin' _difficulties_ going back.”

 

Hanzo nods, thumbing the wet rim of his cup. “I cannot ask you to stay,” he decides. Jesse blinks.

 

“Well sure you can.”

 

A corner of Hanzo’s mouth curls up. “I will not. You do a service to the world with Overwatch. I will not ask you to leave it for selfish, personal reasons.”

 

It gets a little harder to swallow than Jesse might like. “Kinda wanna stay for selfish, personal reasons,” he confesses, reaching down to take Hanzo’s foot in hand. He pulls it into his lap, encircling the smooth skin of his ankle beneath the hem of his trousers. Hanzo makes a quiet noise, but rather than pull out of Jesse’s loose grip, he lifts his other foot as well. “I’m… well, it’s hard to say this without soundin’ right silly. Haven’t known you very long, Shimada, but… I’m real fond of you.”

 

“I know this.” Hanzo smiles faintly, taking a sip of his wine.

 

“But you don’t want me to stay.”

 

“It is not about what I want. It is about what is right,” Hanzo says. “If it were in my hands, I would keep you here.”

 

“It could be,” Jesse says. “In your hands.”

 

Hanzo’s smile looks a little tired as he shakes his head. “No.” He looks at the wine in his hand and is quiet for a moment. “There are other ways… to be fond of each other. Even if you cannot stay.” When he looks up, Jesse sees the light flush that has crept back into his cheeks.

 

“Aw, sugar. I can’t ask that of you.” Jesse’s throat feels tight.

 

“Cannot or will not?”

 

Jesse laughs despite himself. “Listen, I’m not… good at this. Relationships. I know people say that all the time but it’s true. But long distance? That’s a whole other level of complicated.” He swallows. “What if it ends poorly?”

 

Hanzo sets his jaw. “What if it does not? Are you not even willing to try?”

 

Jesse squeezes Hanzo’s ankle with one hand and runs a hand through his hair with the other. “It ain’t fair to you,” he mumbles, a furrow in his brow. Hanzo scoffs. “Now don’t you start with that, I know what I‘m talkin’ about. You’re... Hanzo, you’re the whole package. Pretty, smart, wicked sense of humor. Great ass. Hell, you can even cook a mean bowl of noodles.”

 

“McCree,” Hanzo growls. Jesse waves him off.

 

“You got everything goin’ for you. I can’t tie you down in good conscience when there could be... I dunno. Someone who deserves you more.” With every word, the pit in his gut grows wider. “Someone who’ll be here with you. For you.”

 

“That is not your decision to make.”

 

Jesse laughs once, dry. “Nah, it ain’t. But if I... if we do this, I‘ll make it harder on the both of us. Biologically-speakin’. I got some... instincts.” He wiggles his fingers until the claws come up. “Get attached, get clingy. As it is I‘m like to go a little crazy when your scent’s gone from my clothes.”

 

The color in Hanzo’s cheeks darkens. “And you think it is so different for a dragon?”

 

Jesse blinks. “Reckon I wouldn’t know.”

 

“It is not.” Hanzo sighs, frustrated. “There is no one else. I do not _want_ there to be anyone else. Do not cheapen this by implying I should wait around for hypotheticals when I already know what I want.” He curls his fingers around the cup in front of him, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I am willing to try, if you are.”

 

Jesse takes a sharp breath. He can see it, behind the set jaw and the narrowed eyes. Behind the determination. Hanzo’s as vulnerable as he’s ever seen him. He’s laid it all out on the table, ready to make the jump. And Jesse’s still not sure if it wouldn’t be kinder to let him fall now.

 

He tries for levity, sliding his metal hand up Hanzo’s calf. “Sounds a little like you’re offering me forever, sweetheart.”

 

Hanzo glowers into his cup. “It would be foolish to do so,” he mutters. Jesse nods.

 

“It would.”

 

“I have not known you for very long at all, and been in your bed far less.”

 

“Well, been in your bed more’n mine...”

 

“And yet, somehow...” A muscle in Hanzo’s jaw tics. He won’t look Jesse in the eye. “As... tiresome and troubling as it may be, I want to try. Is this unacceptable?”

 

Jesse clears his throat all quiet-like. “Nah,” he says. “’Course it ain’t. I feel it too, Hanzo.”

 

Hanzo looks up and his eyes widen. It’s not quite surprise but something like it. “So,” he say and covers his voice breaking a little by clearing his throat as well. “Is that a yes?”

 

Jesse digs his fingers into the meat of Hanzo’s calf, just a little bit of pressure. “I can’t make any promises and I can’t look into the future -”

 

“I would not ask this of you.”

 

“But yeah, that’s a yes.”

 

Hanzo smiles and averts his gaze like he should be ashamed of it. Jesse wishes there was no table between them and no other people in this restaurant. There’s a tight hot ball of excitement in his belly, a giddiness pushing its way up into his chest, even though he still can’t be sure he didn’t just doom both of them to heartbreak. But then again, perhaps it was already too late for that.

 

Hanzo’s the one who reaches his hand out to him this time - just leaves it on the table like an offering Jesse’s only all too happy to accept. He laces his fingers with Hanzo’s.

 

“I am glad,” Hanzo says, his voice quiet.

 

“Same here,” Jesse murmurs, smoothing his thumb down the center of Hanzo’s palm. There’s a part of his brain trying to fall out of his mouth, something about Overwatch’s Mateship benefits and what that means, what it could mean, but tamps that down in the dirt. There’s a time for bringing up the M-word, and it probably ain’t now.

 

Maybe.

 

He plucks a cube of dragonfruit and chews on it, licking the sweetness from his fingertips just as the waitress returns with the bill. Jesse snags it before Hanzo can lift a finger, waving him off when he inquires as to the price. It’s steep, but he ain’t gonna tell Hanzo that. He probably already knows.

 

“Now you sit tight, handsome - I did tell you I was taking you out, and I meant it.”

 

“Do not be ridiculous,” Hanzo insists, but Jesse tucks his card alongside the bill and hands it back to their waitress. “I picked the restaurant.”

 

“And you picked real damn well. Let me handle the rest.” He winks at Hanzo who sighs but nods his thanks.

 

Jesse hardly noticed the time passing during dinner but when they step out onto the street, it’s noticeably cooler, the night breeze carrying a few cherry blossoms with it. It’s not terribly late but there are fewer people on the streets as they make their way back to the temple.

 

Hanzo gently brushes his knuckles against Jesse’s hand as they walk and Jesse doesn’t hesitate to lace his fingers with his.

 

They haven’t gotten far when Hanzo slows down only to pull Jesse into a little side street, away from the lights and the people of the main road. Before Jesse even has the chance to ask, Hanzo spins around and pulls him down into a kiss.

 

Hanzo kisses him long and deep, one hand balled into the front of his shirt and one in his hair, hidden in the shadows from curious onlookers. He tastes like plum wine. After a heartbeat of surprise, Jesse put his arms around him, pulling him close.

 

Hanzo is the first to break the kiss, tapping his forehead against Jesse’s.

 

“What’d I do to earn that one?” Jesse asks, catching his breath. “Not that I’m complaining.”

 

“You know,” Hanzo says quietly. And then, so low that Jesse almost doesn’t hear it, “I am very happy.”

 

Jesse closes his eyes for a moment. “I feel like I should be the one thanking you,” he says truthfully.

 

Hanzo smiles and runs his fingers along the line of his clean shaven jaw. “Jesse,” he says, for seemingly no other reason than speaking his name, and it tugs at Jesse’s heart in a way he’s never felt before.

 

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” Jesse says. “You deserve better than me undressing you in some back alley.”

 

“I am surprised by your patience,” Hanzo says with a little smile and leads him back out to the main road.

 

“Says the fella who dragged me into an alley to make time,” Jesse grins, taking Hanzo’s hand. The moment Hanzo’s guard drops, he takes the hand and loops it through the crook of his arm. Like a real gentleman.

 

Hanzo balks and stares down at the prosthetic, clicking his tongue. But he settles in at Jesse’s side. Jesse can’t feel the grip he has on his elbow, but it don’t matter much - he’s kind of reeling from the fact that Hanzo didn’t suplex him in the middle of the street.

 

Clouds have cast shadows over the moon and stars, but the streetlamps and the shop lights are more than enough to guide their path. Jesse looks down and takes the carnation from his pocket, reaching over to tuck it behind Hanzo’s ear. Hanzo narrows his eyes, but when he doesn’t move to remove it, Jesse sighs. “It matches the cherry blossoms.”

 

“What?”

 

“Oh, didn’t I say? You got some real pretty petals caught up in that hair of yours, Mister Shimada. I must say, it’s a good look on you.”

 

Hanzo reaches up to touch his high ponytail, eyes wide. Jesse smirks.

  
“Didn’t wanna say anything, on account’a mussing that pretty hair.”

 

“So you let me look like a fool instead?” Hanzo asks, his fingers fruitlessly feeling for petals in his hair.

 

“You couldn’t look like a fool if you tried.” Jesse leans over to pick a petal from the crown of his head and shows it to him before letting it get carried away by the wind.

 

Jesse has to stop himself from looking at Hanzo while they walk. He’s torn between wanting this little walk to go on for a bit longer and getting Hanzo home and out of these clothes as soon as possible. But Hanzo makes the decision for him, gently guiding him on a different path than the one they took before, cutting through a quaint residential area that leads them back to the temple a little faster.

 

He’s tempted to make a comment about impatience but contents himself with a wide grin.

 

The temple lies still and dark when they finally see it at the end of the path. No lights and no music this time. Hanzo slows his step for a moment, obviously surprised.

 

“They might still be out,” Jesse says as they walk up to the building. “Not the worst thing for us…”

 

Hanzo furrows his brow and doesn’t reply.

 

They’re nearly at the door when they notice that the light in the dojo is still on. Jesse hears the sound of voices and laughter and... something else he can’t quite place.

 

“A little late for training,” he says but Hanzo’s already let go of his arm and walking towards the dojo doors. Jesse trails after him, and when he pokes his head in through the wide open doors his breath catches in his throat.

 

A dragon. A real, actual dragon winds its way around the dojo floor. Its scales and the mane down its spine are varying shades of green that flashes in the light above as it gallops and glides around the room. Its roar isn’t so much a fearsome sound as Jesse might’ve thought, and when he manages to take his eyes off the damn thing, he can see it’s chasing something around the room. Something small and gold.

 

An orb. It’s chasing an orb. Zenyatta floats in the center of the dojo, guiding the orb with motions of his hands that flow like water. Jesse’s jaw drops. That dragon is Genji - gotta be.

 

He’s _big_ \- and Jesse knows big. He gets plenty bigger himself when he’s fully shifted, but this is something else. Reyes is a hulking mass straight out of a horror flick when he undergoes the change himself. But this dragon is easily as long as five Genjis lined up tip to toe, his maw a great wide thing that opens with each playful growl every time he comes close to the orb.

 

Zenyatta flicks his hand up and the orb shoots high, high up close to the ceiling of the massive dojo, and Genji follows, curling through the air and diving back to follow the orb when Zenyatta pulls it back down. Zenyatta says something Jesse can only barely hear from where he stands - sounds like praise - and tosses a second orb into the mix. Far apart from the one Genji’s chasing, catching his bright eyes.

 

Teasing him, Jesse realizes. Genji catches on just as quick. Instead of chasing after one orb or the other, he twists and dips toward Zenyatta. Jesse feels his heart seize up, like watching a train wreck in slow motion, but when Genji’s muzzle hits Zenyatta, all Jesse can hear is laughter. Tinny, deep laughter, practically giggles as far as Jesse can tell. He didn’t know robots could laugh like that. Genji pushes his floating mentor back several yards and Zenyatta lets him, metal arms around his great head.

 

“Well I’ll be,” Jesse mutters, scratching the back of his head. Something about it startles a grin out of him. Genji nips playfully at Zenyatta’s red sash, pressing his face into Zenyatta’s body like a great big cat. “You like that too?” Jesse asks, turning to Hanzo.

 

But Hanzo isn’t standing beside him anymore.

 

He turns around fully but there’s nothing but darkness behind him. No trace of Hanzo.

 

There’s a noise behind him, Zenyatta’s voice and Jesse turns around just in time to see Genji transform. It’s like a shiver that goes through the dragon’s body as he moves around Zenyatta, his scales shimmering in the light. There’s a low roar and Genji twists, shakes off the dragon form like it’s the easiest thing in the world. It doesn’t take longer than a few seconds and suddenly he’s Genji again, stark naked and breathing heavily, but unmistakably human. Even from this distance, Jesse can see the last few green scales retreating as Genji walks towards him.

 

He looks shocked, all color drained from his face. “Hanzo?”

 

“I don’t know,” Jesse says. “He was here just a second ago.”

 

Genji’s eyes go wide. “Did he see?”

 

Dread drops into Jesse’s stomach like a heavy stone as the realization hits him. He can only nod and Genji bites out something or other in Japanese. Sounds like a curse. Zenyatta floats towards him, his orbs back in an orderly row around his neck. He touches Genji gently on the shoulder but Jesse can see him shaking.  

 

“I have to -”

 

“No,” Jesse says with much more certainty than he feels. “I’ll go.”

 

Genji shakes his head, but Zenyatta holds his shoulder more firmly. “You should get dressed,” he says, calm as anything. Genji looks to him, searching, and then exhales. He looks… drained.

 

“Take it you didn’t talk to him after all,” Jesse says, lifting his eyes to the ceiling to give Genji some privacy as he trudges back into the dojo.

 

“No,” Genji replies. It’s so quiet Jesse probably wouldn’t be able to hear it without ears like his. “But now I must.”

 

In his periphery, Jesse can see Genji shuffling into a pair of sweats and a tank top.

 

“I really -”

 

“It must be me,” Genji says, far more firmly than before. He returns to Zenyatta’s side and runs a hand through his hair with a grimace. “I would say you should go, but… I think you might be a comfort to him, once we are through.”

 

“Wasn’t gonna leave,” Jesse murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck. Genji nods and looks to Zenyatta again.

 

“Go in harmony,” Zenyatta tells him, extending a hand. The tips of his long fingers catch under Genji’s chin, and Jesse feels like maybe this is something he oughtn’t to see. “You do not err in inhabiting your own form, Genji.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Genji says, and touches his hand before he’s turned, disappearing from the dojo down the hall.

 

Jesse clears his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. He glances sideways toward Zenyatta.

  
“So,” he starts, drawing out the ‘o’. “I don’t suppose you drink?”


	16. Chapter 16

Zenyatta’s good company. Jesse’s a little embarrassed not to have noticed earlier. When Genji’s around, he’s content to observe from the background, innocuous and quietly floating, and when Hanzo’s around Jesse hardly has eyes for anything else. But he’s insightful (unsurprising) with a bizarre sense of humor (which tickles Jesse pink), and just a generally affable aura about him. He does staunchly, if politely, refuse to juggle in a manner that makes Jesse think it’s been requested of him before.

 

It’s not difficult to see why Genji likes him so much or how he would have been a major part in Genji learning to control his dragon form. Even if only half the stories about Genji’s wild youth were true, it still seems like a huge accomplishment to Jesse. Just being in Zenyatta’s presence is calming, somehow. 

 

But still, he can’t stop listening for the telltale sound of fighting. The temple lies quiet. If Genji and Hanzo are still here, Jesse can’t hear them. 

 

“You worry,” Zenyatta says after he turns his head towards the doors for the third time. 

 

“And you don’t?” It’s not really irritation that gnaws at him, just a sense of unease, like he’s waiting for some inevitable disaster but doesn’t know which direction to expect it from. 

 

Zenyatta tilts his head as though he's truly considering his answer. He says after a moment,  “I have faith in Genji.”

 

Jesse can’t argue with him there. He wants something to chew on, like a cigarette or a dog toy. He settles for his thumbnail instead. He’d found a bottle of Hanzo’s favorite sake in a cabinet and trains his eyes on it. Maybe if he glares enough at an innocent bottle, everything will be resolved.

 

“I don’t like it. No way both of ‘em are getting out of that conversation hurt.”

 

“Pain is an excellent teacher.”

 

Jesse narrows his eyes at Zenyatta. He points a finger. “Stop bein’ reasonable.”

 

Zenyatta hums. It sounds an awful lot like he’s only just keeping himself from laughing. “Would that bring you more comfort?”

 

“Now stop tryin’ to trick me into insight, man. You’re gonna trip me into examining complicated thoughts and emotions I prefer to ignore.”

 

Zenyatta’s orbs float in a lazy circle before they come back to rest around his neck. “I do worry for Genji, in my own way,” he says. Despite his words, Jesse feels like he’s in a confessional more than Zenyatta. “His inner peace is important to himself, and it is important to me. The contention with his brother brings him discord. I would like it resolved.”

 

“Sooner rather than later?”

 

“All things must happen in their own time,” Zenyatta says, drifting lower until he’s sitting at the table cross-legged across from Jesse. “But sooner is preferable.”

 

Jesse sighs. He feels like drinking, just to settle his nerves, but he knows he needs to be sober for whatever happens next. 

 

“I don’t know what you taught him in that monastery of yours,” Jesse says, “but it must be some powerful stuff. I’ve never seen a person shift like that.”

 

Zenyatta hums. “There was nothing I offered that was not fully within his grasp.” 

 

“You sure about that?”

 

“Quite.” Zenyatta folds his hands. “The problem was never control. It was acceptance.” 

 

Jesse laughs dryly. “I feel like I mighta read that on a flyer somewhere before.”

 

“An important lesson for many aspects of life,” Zenyatta says with a slight tilt of his head. 

 

Jesse has a hard time seeing how  _ acceptance _ should be enough to help a person seamlessly shift from one form to the other without batting an eye. 

 

“Hanzo does not speak to you at length of his nature.”

 

“Huh?” Jesse blinks, sitting up a little straighter. “Uh… nah, not really.”

 

“You were surprised to see Genji in his true form.”

 

Jesse scratches at his cheek, brow furrowed. “That’s a little archaic, ain’t it? To call any form or another the truest.”

 

“You do not find any form of your own truer than another?”

 

“Nah. Maybe?” Jesse squints. “There’s the more socially acceptable one, sure, but… nah. It’s all me.”

 

“It is your belief that every form you possess is your own.”

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

Zenyatta dips his head. “It is this implicit truth that Genji struggled against when we first met. It is the same truth that Hanzo will not seek.”

 

Jesse leans back in his chair, eyes wide. “You’re a tricky son of a gun, you know that?”

 

“Am I?” Zenyatta’s orbs lift and rotate. “And I believed I was a son of none.”

 

Jesse’s about to pop open that bottle of sake himself when the sound of footsteps turns both their attention to the door. Genji stands there, looking ten years older than when he’d left them an hour or so ago. Zenyatta defies gravity, drifting to meet him as Genji wanders into the kitchen. He has a tired smile for his mentor, strained but genuine. “McCree,” he says, sparing a brief glance for Jesse. 

 

“Yeah,” Jesse grunts, hefting himself up from the floor, snagging the sake as he goes. “I’m on it.”

 

As he leaves, Jesse hears Zenyatta’s inquiry, and Genji’s quiet, “My soul rests easier now that it is done. Of course you were right, Master.” The long hallway is dark, but Jesse can see the light coming from under the crack in Hanzo’s door. 

 

He knocks but when there is no answer, he carefully slides open the door.

 

Hanzo stands at the far end of the room, one hand on a wooden beam of the wall. He has his back to the door but Jesse can see his shoulders tense when he steps into the room. 

 

“Hey,” Jesse says, closing the door behind him. 

 

There are soft pink petals strewn across the floor and none are left in Hanzo’s hair. 

 

“The first time I... shifted was in this room,” Hanzo says, his voice strangely thick. He runs his hand over the wood. “I demolished this wall and half the bathhouse before my father could subdue me.” 

 

Jesse doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what he expected. But this odd calm is more disconcerting than any yelling or raging ever could have been. He takes another step forward, the bottle of sake suddenly awkward in his hand. 

 

“Hanzo,” he says. “Look at me?” 

 

Hanzo slowly turns his head. More than anything, he looks tired. 

 

“I remember,” he says, rubbing at his brow, “that the only thing I could think was… that I wanted to play. I was a child, and yet I caused so much destruction on a whim alone. Genji too learned this lesson - from my mistakes, he was forewarned.” 

 

Jesse shuts the door behind himself and closes the distance between them. He sets the sake down on the desk and leans against the wall so close to Hanzo that their socked feet touch. “Left an impression,” he observes. Hanzo snorts.

 

“On me alone, it would seem.” The divot between Hanzo’s eyebrows grows. “Our final form is dangerous. Almost impossible to control. To be considered as a typhoon: a terrible force of nature kept at a great distance. For Genji to take it to - to act as a common housepet might act…” His mouth twists. “Unseemly. _Dishonorable.”_

 

“Hey now.” Jesse reaches out, but Hanzo steps back. 

 

“My brother has argued enough with me tonight,” Hanzo says, turning away. “Whatever you might have to say, he has said.”

 

“Probably,” Jesse agrees. “Still. Hanzo, I don’t think it’s all that bad.”

 

“And what would you know?” Hanzo turns to him suddenly, his voice and eyes like ice. “Your control slips only once a month. How could you possibly understand this burden?”

 

Jesse takes a deep breath and ignores the prickles in the cage of his ribs that really, really would love to bite back. “You’re right. I can’t.” 

 

Hanzo blinks. He expected a fight, might have even wanted one. When he finds no resistance, he stumbles. “You do not know what it is like.” 

 

“I don’t,” Jesse agrees.

 

Hanzo glares at him, irritation coming towards Jesse in waves. “What do you want from me, Jesse?”

 

What he wants is to get closer to Hanzo, to touch him. Instead, he stays put and keeps his hands to himself. “I don’t know what it’s like. But there’s someone who does.” Hanzo scoffs but Jesse doesn’t let it deter him. “Whatever happened between you, however different the two of you are, this is somethin’ you share.” 

 

“He  _ plays _ with it,” Hanzo says. “Like it is a toy for his amusement. Like he doesn’t know the risks.” 

 

“Now I don’t know about that,” Jesse says and pushes himself off the wall. He walks over to the desk, giving Hanzo some space. “Seems to me like he’s found a way to live with it. To control it, if that’s what you wanna call it. Something you didn’t think was possible. That doesn’t sound like bad news to me.” 

 

“It can be _ruinous,”_ Hanzo hisses pulling the ribbon from his hair. He drags his fingers through the long strands in frustration.

 

“Can be,” Jesse acquiesces. “But it ain’t for Genji. I’d take a gamble that it doesn’t have to be for you either.”

 

Hanzo looks… lost. For all his bluster, this is something Jesse’s allowed to see. “You know nothing,” he says again, but it’s quiet, wounded. Jesse pulls away from the desk and gravitates back toward Hanzo. 

 

Some fiction would have folk believe that Wolves can scent any emotion rolling off of folk, and that’s all horseshit; it doesn’t take a keen sense of smell to tell that the boy you’re sweet on is hurting. Jesse reaches out with his organic hand and touches Hanzo’s elbow. 

 

“Genji pities me,” Hanzo says, turning his face from Jesse. Then he stops himself and turns back, eyes smoldering and dark as coal. “So do you.”

 

“I pity the folks who told their little boys that they should repress somethin’ so big about themselves,” Jesse corrects, slipping his fingers up Hanzo’s arm. “And it’s a pity that you’re wary of your own damn self.”

 

Hanzo stiffens slightly but doesn’t pull away this time. “For good reason,” he says, his voice hard. “I am a danger to all those around me.” 

 

“Now you start to sound a lot like those anti-were assholes with their signs and stupid slogans.”

 

Hanzo narrows his eyes. “Stop.” He takes a deep breath as Jesse rests his hand on his shoulder. “My parents did what they thought was right to keep us safe. As do I.”

 

“I know. But seems to me that there’s another way. Just because Genji’s the one who found it first, doesn’t mean it ain’t worth a try.”

 

“You think me so arrogant?” 

 

“I think you’ve lived alone with this fear for far too long. It’s not easy to get past that.” He squeezes his shoulder, just a little bit. “But you’re not alone anymore, Hanzo.” 

 

Hanzo closes his eyes as if he can’t stand to look Jesse in the eye any longer. “You say all these words and yet you do not…” He breaks off. Jesse can feel him sagging.

 

Jesse’s hand crawls over his shoulders and he pulls Hanzo in. There’s some resistance at first, but Hanzo can’t hold it for long. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore tonight,” Jesse mumbles, looking away. Hanzo doesn’t melt into his one-armed hug so much as he forces himself not to flee. It’s alright. Progress. “Or ever, you an’ me. But it’s worth some thought.” 

 

Hanzo leaves his face stuffed into Jesse’s shoulder for a long moment, arms stiff at his sides, before he heaves a real gust of a sigh. “You brought sake.”

 

“‘Course I did.”

 

“I would like a drink.”

 

Jesse tilts his head down and nuzzles the soft hair at Hanzo’s temple. “Let me pour you one, sugar.”

 

They sit down on the futon and Hanzo sort of slumps for a moment, like he doesn’t have the energy to hold himself upright anymore. When Jesse pours him a cup he sits up, drains it immediately and holds it out to be refilled again. 

 

Jesse does and pours one for himself. He’s not going to judge a man for drinking, especially not after all of this, but he keeps the bottle by his side instead of handing it to Hanzo. 

 

Hanzo sighs and looks at the sake in his cup like it holds the answer to his problem. 

 

There’s a crushed pink petal on the futon between them and Jesse brushes it to the floor with one hand. 

 

“I have ruined this night,” Hanzo says suddenly, not taking his eyes of his cup. “I apologize.” 

 

“You ain't ruined anything.” Jesse carefully nudges his legs with a foot. “Just two big important things that happened to fall on the same night. That’s all.” 

 

Hanzo tilts his cup this way and that, watching the sake inside. “He will be leaving,” he says, sipping a little more slowly at his drink. “I had thought… perhaps now that he has returned, he would remain. That we might run the shop together. This was not to be. Genji is leaving, and so are you.”

 

“Hey now.” Jesse’s insides give an uncomfortable lurch because despite everything else, that much is true. He’s not drunk enough for this. Jesse’s less in a position to be making promises than Genji, given the nature of his job. Still, he feels like prowling. Feels like hiding Hanzo away inside himself and never letting go. Melodrama goes hand in hand with folk like them. “We’ll figure somethin’ out, you hear? I’ll figure something out.”

 

There is silence from the man beside him, and Jesse can’t help but picture him as he must’ve been not two months ago all alone in this grand estate. Walking the halls on quiet feet day after day. It gets a little hard to swallow just thinking about it. The faintest whine warbles from his throat before he shuts it off. 

 

Hanzo looks at him and he looks so hopeless that Jesse can feel the dread like a physical ache in his chest. It’s still far too early to even bring up the topic of Mateship. Hell, it would feel like a cheap trick now, anyway. They both deserve better than that. But the words are on the tip of his tongue. 

 

“Do not worry,” Hanzo says. “I have been alone before you came. It will not kill me.” 

 

Jesse’s pretty sure that the thought alone might just kill  _ him _ , though. “I’ll figure something out,” he repeats, more to reassure himself. 

 

Hanzo downs his sake and holds out his cup so Jesse can refill it. He puts a hand on his knee as he leans forward and leaves it there. 

 

“I was a fool to think he would stay,” Hanzo says quietly. “I have never seen him…” He makes a gesture with his hand like he’s trying to pluck the right word out of thin air. “Happy like this. Not in Hanamura.” 

 

“I’d say it has less to do with the place and more with the people,” Jesse says. “But you’re not a fool for hoping.”

 

“I was,” Hanzo argues, but Jesse can hear the faintest smile in his voice. “He was never content to be still. Not as I was.”

 

“Don’t mean you can’t want things. Family.” Jesse leans over on impulse, tapping his head against Hanzo’s. “Everybody wants a piece of that, some way or another.”

 

Hanzo hums, draining the rest of his cup. When Jesse lifts the bottle, he holds up a hand to halt him. “No more tonight. I… should not drown my thoughts.”

 

“That’s mighty healthy thinkin' of you, Hanzo.” Jesse stands, taking his cup and Hanzo’s and leaves them on the desk next to the vase of lilies. He turns back to Hanzo with a slow smile, spreading his hands. “You want me to get?”

 

Hanzo blinks. “Get what?”

 

“Uh, go. You want me to go?”

 

Hanzo looks up at him with inscrutable eyes. “I do not.”

 

Jesse doesn’t even try to hide his smile. He doesn’t want to say they should make the most of the time they have left but he knows that Hanzo feels it too - an unspoken thing hanging in the air between them. 

 

The sake has left a familiar flush on Hanzo’s face, even though his eyes still look so sad it hurts Jesse just to look at them. When he crawls back into bed, Hanzo takes his hand and pulls him in. 

 

It’s not how either of them thought this night would end, with both of them fully dressed in bed, but if it’s what Hanzo needs Jesse is willing to give it to him. He wraps an arm around Hanzo when he lies down next to him and Hanzo makes a small satisfied noise as he presses his back against Jesse. The’ll have to get up eventually but for now Jesse contents himself with pressing a kiss against the slope of Hanzo’s shoulder. 

 

Sometime in the middle of the night, Jesse wakes to his phone and wallet digging into his pelvis. With a grunt he rolls over onto his back and finagles with the fine dress slacks, kicking them off the side of the bed. Off go his jacket and button-down, too. Blissfully near naked, he turns to Hanzo, fast asleep in all his silk.

 

“Roll over, sweetheart,” Jesse mutters, fiddling with the finery in the dark. “Lemme get you outta your clothes.”

 

Hanzo grunts, barely stirring as Jesse pulls him free of the worst of it. He doesn’t dare pull the garb out from under Hanzo once it‘s open, which leaves Hanzo lying on a swath of silk. 

 

Exhaustion pulls Jesse down beside him, nestled against the warmth of Hanzo’s sleepy scent. A clumsy hand wanders up and buries itself in Jesse’s hair and... yup. There’s that damnable wagging tail.

  
Jesse’s not even of a mind to stop it.


	17. Chapter 17

The next time he wakes, morning light is already creeping in. Hanzo is curled up against him, one arm flung over his chest. When Jesse brushes his fingers over Hanzo's shoulder, his skin is cool and he feels a pang of guilt for leaving him so exposed all through the night. He carefully pulls the blanket over them both, trying not to wake Hanzo in the process. 

 

Hanzo makes a little noise and presses himself even closer, seeking the warmth of Jesse’s body. 

 

He always looks pretty - it’s something Jesse should be used to by now. But this is something else, with his face soft and peaceful in his sleep and his dark hair mussed. Jesse’s pretty sure he could just stare at him forever and die a happy man. He gently brushes a strand of hair from his face. It’s still early. He should at least try to get a few more hours of sleep but he’s wide awake, lying as still as possible. 

 

Hanzo mutters something in Japanese not so very long later, and the jig is up. Jesse grins, palming softly at Hanzo’s chest.

 

“Didn’t catch that,” he laughs, a quiet raspy thing. Even squinting at him with a curtain of bedhead, Hanzo Shimada’s probably the most beautiful thing Jesse’s ever seen.

 

Hanzo grunts. “Your breath is atrocious.”

 

Jesse snorts, dropping his forehead to Hanzo’s shoulder. “You can make a dog breath joke. It’s early, and you’re pretty enough. I’d allow it.”

 

Instead, Hanzo runs his fingers over Jesse’s chest, his blunt nails scraping across his skin. He makes a pleased noise and stretches his legs. His movements are still sleepy but by the time Jesse bares his throat so Hanzo can nose at the underside of his jaw, he’s fairly certain that Hanzo’s awake. 

 

Hanzo inhales deeply and seems content with the scent he finds there, nuzzling the side of Jesse’s neck. He slings one leg over Jesse’s. 

 

“You undressed me,” he murmurs against the crook of Jesse’s neck, like he’s only just noticed. 

 

“Didn’t want you to sleep in that fine get-up of yours.” 

 

Hanzo laughs, his breath hot against Jesse’s neck. “How selfless of you.” 

 

Jesse runs his palms down the muscles of Hanzo’s back poorly concealed by his undershirt. “Didn’t even get to enjoy it,” he huffs, “what with you bein’ asleep.”

 

“You will enjoy nothing now with breath like yours.”

 

Jesse pokes a socked foot to Hanzo’s. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you ain’t exactly minty fresh either.”

 

“And yet it would not deter you.”

 

“‘S the best part of bein’ a Wolf, I guess,” Jesse says with a big ol’ grin written right across his face. “Not a lot of scents can put me off if they’re yours.” 

 

“Foul man,” Hanzo says fondly, and pushes him away. “I will meet you in the bathroom.”

 

Jesse perks up. “Oh yeah? I’ll race you.”

 

“Not on your life.”

 

He gives Hanzo a few minutes of privacy while he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling, grinning like an idiot. When he gets up and into the bathroom, Hanzo’s already brushed his hair. Jesse’s tempted to muss it up but decides he values his life a little too much for that. 

 

They brush their teeth side by side at the sink like an old married couple and the thought makes Jesse feel like he’s going to jump out of his skin. He playfully bumps his hip against Hanzo who rolls his eyes but nudges him back before he leaves the bathroom. 

 

When Jesse steps back into his room two minutes later, he finds Hanzo smelling the flowers on his desk, his hair falling over one shoulder. The sight alone is enough to make his heart beat faster. 

 

“I brush my teeth just for you and you’d still rather smell the flowers?” he asks as he moves towards him. 

 

“I sincerely hope I am not the only reason you brush your teeth.” 

 

“‘Course not. But you are the prettiest.” 

 

He waltzes over, slow as you please, and Hanzo eyes him unmovingly with amusement simmering in his eyes. He goes when Jesse tips his chin up and ducks down to exactly where he’d like to be.

 

Jesse McCree gets his kiss. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The kitchen is empty when they enter, though breakfast sits for them warm and waiting on the counter. A bit of fish and some rice, an omelette sliced up quaint to share. It becomes apparent why when they enter the dojo on their way out.

 

Seeing a full-blown dragon is just as disarming the second time as it was the first; it takes Jesse a second or two to remember he should be wary of Hanzo’s reaction. 

 

There are no orbs being flung high and low around the room this time. If anything, the dragon and the robot in the center of it seem to be… almost definitely grappling. Zenyatta moves with surprising dexterity, using Genji’s size against him; dodging every charge using a quick grip on Genji’s face or mane for momentum. Gotta be mighty strong, too; some kinda robot monk witchcraft, giving him the exact right angle and dis-balance to send a lunging Genji toppling to the floor with an indignant roar.

 

Jesse whistles low. “Ain’t that a sight?” he says, turning to Hanzo who’s got a real deer-in-headlights look about him. “Pretty sure dragons versus robots is an idea Hollywood’s had to scrap at least a hundred times, and now it’s right here in front’a me. Truth stranger than fiction and all that.”

 

Hanzo makes a noise, something between a huff and sigh. At least he’s not running away this time. Jesse decides to take that as a good sign. 

 

Genji picks himself up from the floor with a little shake and spots them in the doorway. He hesitates before he moves. Hanzo doesn’t. 

 

He moves faster than any human could. Genji hasn’t made it more than a few feet towards them when he steps in front of Jesse, one arm outstretched to hold him back. Jesse can see the familiar blue scales on the back of his neck. 

 

The dragon stops, looking more confused than anything. And, just like the night before, he shifts back into his human form without missing a beat. 

 

“It is alright, brother,” he says and picks up a robe from the floor where it lies discarded to cover himself. 

 

Jesse reaches out and places a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, feels his muscles tense. It takes a few more long seconds before he stands down. When he turns to Jesse, there are no scales but his face is flushed - if because of embarrassment or anger is impossible to say. 

 

“Hell of a thing, your full form,” Jesse says, stepping up beside Hanzo. He squeezes his shoulder, but trains his eyes on Genji.

 

“It is impressive,” Zenyatta agrees, drifting closer. “Genji has magnificent form… when he is not rolling on the floor.”

 

“Whose fault is that?” Genji asks, running a hand through his hair. He’s flushed and grinning, and Jesse can practically feel the energy radiating off of him. Jesse shakes a finger at the approaching Omnic.

 

“He’s got you there, man. You aren’t too shabby yourself.”

 

Zenyatta tips his head forward. “One must never underestimate their opponent. I believe that one day in his own time, Genji will learn this as well.”

 

“I would never underestimate you, Master!”

 

“You do this a lot?” Jesse asks, mostly because Hanzo isn’t saying anything. 

 

“Physical exercise and training is just as important as meditation,” Zenyatta says. “In this way, we find harmony within our bodies and our spirits." 

 

“It is reckless,” Hanzo says. He’s still tense. 

 

Zenyatta turns his head to him. “Recklessness bears the implication that one does not know the risks.”

 

“If one knows them and still treats them like an amusement, _yes_.” 

 

Genji clicks his tongue in a way that is so similar to Hanzo that it’s almost eerie. But Zenyatta lifts his hand, stopping him from saying whatever he was about to say. 

 

“To master your true form, you must find comfort within it. Is it not better to be found in play than in violence?” 

 

Hanzo scoffs. “That is hardly what the Dragon's form is intended for.”

 

“Intended?” Zenyatta tilts his head. “Tell me, for what is it intended? What purpose does your body serve?”

 

Hanzo opens his mouth but seems lost for words. He looks to Genji who does a terrible job at hiding his smile. Jesse gets the feeling that he once had to answer the very same question. 

 

“A single answer does not exist,” Zenyatta says. "It is enough simply to be.” 

 

Hanzo squares his shoulders and brushes past his brother and Zenyatta. Jesse hastens to catch up, shooting Genji a hasty salute as he goes. “They got a point,” he says once they’ve left the main building. Despite Hanzo’s shorter legs, Jesse has to make an effort to keep up with him. 

 

“They would not be so infuriating if they did not,” Hanzo mutters in response, before he goes mostly silent to any of Jesse’s prodding. Eventually he takes the hint, and focuses on keeping stride with his own tiny, angry dragon. 

 

When they finally reach the shop, Hanzo’s stormy expression has faded into something less likely to suggest murder, and Jesse takes the opportunity to slip his fingers around a warm wrist. 

 

“Things are kinda tense at home,” he says, palming up the smooth flesh of Hanzo’s arm. “What do you say we camp out at my place tonight instead?” 

 

Hanzo sighs, jangling his keys. “Will you clean?” 

 

“Hey!” Jesse nudges him with his elbow. “For your information, I already did. Yesterday.” 

 

It earns him the first smile since they left Hanzo’s room and for that alone Jesse will gladly take all the teasing about his household skills. 

 

“Genji will think I am avoiding him.” 

 

“He’ll think you’re taking some time to breathe and think,” Jesse says. “That’s not a bad thing.” 

 

Hanzo takes another moment before he nods. “Perhaps it is for the best.” He looks up at Jesse. “Will you pick me up?” 

 

Jesse drops his wrist to flash him a couple finger guns. “You couldn’t stop me. From the shop or your place? If I remember right, last time you stayed at mine you wouldn’t sleep twice for wearin’ the same old thing.”

 

Hanzo exhales slowly, glancing toward the door. “I will… ask Genji to bring some things for me.” 

 

“Could do,” Jesse nods, scratching the back of his neck. “Or I could go get ‘em for you. Y’know.” He winks. “Fetch.”

 

Hanzo narrows his eyes. “You want to see my brother’s form again.”

 

“Hell yeah I do,” Jesse says, pretty sure there are stars in his eyes. Hanzo sighs. 

 

“I am sure I cannot change your mind, but... I do not know how comfortable I am with the thought.”

 

“You worry about me, sweetheart?” Jesse smiles but Hanzo’s frown tells him he has hit the nail on the head. “You really think he’s that dangerous, huh?” 

 

Hanzo pauses for a moment, his gaze fixed on something just over Jesse’s shoulder as he thinks. “I must confess... I am... not as sure about that as I used to be. I believe he and Zenyatta truly believe he is in control. They do not seem to take this as lightly as I feared. But still…” 

 

There’s a flash of pain on Hanzo’s face before he can hide it. Jesse thinks of the way he stepped in front of him, shielded him from Genji without hesitation. 

 

They’re still outside, but Jesse pulls Hanzo close, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face into his hair. Hanzo stiffens for a second before he leans into him with a sigh. Jesse can feel him grabbing the front of his shirt. 

 

“It’s gonna be alright,” he says. “I’ll be in and out. And tonight we don’t have to talk about it all if you want. I know plenty of ways to distract you.” 

 

Hanzo makes a skeptical noise before he pushes Jesse back, turning to unlock the shop.

 

“Begone, then,” he says. And then, “I will see you tonight.”

 

Jesse leans in to press a quick kiss to the back of his head before he hops away. “I’ll come for a late dinner and stay for the chef,” he promises.

  
Hanzo does not respond to his blown kisses, but neither does he turn his nose up at them. Jesse’ll call that a win.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Just a few more chapters to go. -B

So, something interesting: Genji’s dragon form can fill the entire kitchen, even coiled up tight.

 

Something equally interesting: A dragon can and will purr with enough incentive.

 

The cherry on top: An Omnic sat plum in the center of a dragon’s curled body running metal fingers through its mane will elicit this reaction. Depending on the Omnic.

 

“We are used to a little more space,” Zenyatta says, almost like an apology when Jesse squeezes through the little space left between Genji and the counter to get a cup. “A vase was broken in the hallway last night.”

 

Jesse taps the side of his nose. “I won’t tell a soul.” He doesn’t mention that Genji breaking vases is probably the least of Hanzo’s worries.

 

Genji closes his eyes and a deep rumbling sound rises in his chest when Zenyatta seems to have found a particularly sensitive spot to dig his fingers in. Jesse watches as he pours himself a cup of tea. It’s not the usual one but something strong and dark and spicy. When he offers a cup to him, Zenyatta politely declines.

 

Genji sighs deeply, looking at Jesse through heavy-lidded eyes while Zenyatta keeps running his fingers through his mane. Not unlike a big cat, Jesse can’t help but think. Lying in its favorite spot in the sun.

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can hear Hanzo scoffing at the thought.

 

“I get it. Kitchen’s the warmest spot in the house. Just here to pick up some of your brother’s things,” he says. At this, both of Genji’s massive eyes open. Jesse waves him off. “Invited him over to my place tonight. Thought you two could use a little privacy.”

 

“How thoughtful,” Zenyatta says, one hand stroking the fur beneath Genji’s chin. The rumble of his purr could shatter stone, Jesse thinks with a grin.

 

“Yeah, that’s me,” he says, tipping his hat. “Thoughtful McCree. I’ll go on and leave you two to your… this.”

 

Neither stop him as he retreats to the hallway, chuckling to himself. Honestly, he’s itching to know what Hanzo might look like if he ever found a slice of that self-confidence Genji managed to scrounge up with Zenyatta. Would he be just as big? Bigger? That pretty shade of blue as his transformative scales?

 

Well. No point in wondering now.

 

He slides open the door to Hanzo’s room and steps inside. It’s just as tidy as the first time he saw it but so very different at the same time. He can smell his own scent buried deep under everything that is Hanzo’s. He knows it will fade in time, after he’s gone.

 

The flowers are still on Hanzo’s desk and Jesse steps up to brush a thumb over the soft petals. He takes a sip of his tea before putting the cup down next to the vase and turning to the closet.

 

Something catches his attention from the corner of his eye. It’s a framed picture, barely visible behind an orderly stack of papers in the corner of the desk.

 

Jesse doesn’t mean to snoop, but curiosity gets the better of him and he picks up the frame. Hanzo and Genji look younger, both smiling into the camera. The man in the middle looks like an older, more serious version of Genji. Their father, Jesse thinks, lifting the picture a little closer to his face to get a good look.

 

He looks kinder than Jesse expected, or perhaps that’s just what he sees of Genji in him. Not like the kind of man you’d expect to teach his kids to fear their very nature. Jesse squints, trying and failing to find too much of Hanzo in his face. Must take after his mother.

 

“Could be why he’s so pretty,” Jesse mumbles to himself with a little smirk, carefully setting the frame back in place.

 

Jesse does his best to find something acceptable for Hanzo - packs away his toothbrush too, and some of his special tea from the cabinet on his way out. When he goes Genji has returned to the smallest of his forms, though he’s nowhere near a respectable distance from Zenyatta, legs thrown over his lap as he taps away at something or other on his phone while they rest on the floor.

 

Back at the apartment he puts everything away nice and proper, and with little else to do, checks his phone. Nothing from Reyes - unsurprising - but there are a couple of photos from Captain Amari. Little Fareeha with a stern expression in a fighting stance, and Reyes leaning over a cubicle, peering at something on Morrison’s screen. The second one’s pretty mundane, until he notices a couple feathers poking out of Reyes’ curls.

 

Reinhardt has sent a few too, along with several messages asking after Jesse’s quick return.

 

He taps the side of his phone before putting it back down on the table. He’s a little touched. How could he not be when they’re still thinking of him, even on the other end of the world? There’s a part of him that looks forward to going back, the familiar itch to get back to work. Back to the people he knows and trusts.

 

But it’s tainted now, he thinks as he looks at the packet of Hanzo’s tea on the kitchen counter. Tainted with the knowledge of what he’ll leave behind.

 

He sighs and tries to shrug off the cold feeling of dread that has draped itself like a cloak around his shoulders. He knows he’ll go crazy staying inside all day so he goes for a run, mostly just hoping that it will clear his mind.

 

Back during his first weeks with Overwatch, Reyes used to make him do this. Work out and train until there was no space for anger or hurt or doubt anymore. Just bone-deep exhaustion and the blinding bliss of emptiness. This is nowhere close to that, even though he returns to the apartment covered in sweat and the muscles in his legs twitching as soon as he stands still. But for now, it’s good enough.

 

He wonders if that is what Zenyatta and Genji achieve in their meditation as he drags himself into the shower, leaving a trail of discarded clothes behind him. The wolf will have him back to full energy in no time but for now he enjoys the pleasant ache in his muscles, letting the hot water run down his back.

 

Under the spray, he gets an idea.

 

He runs to the convenience store for a few things, drops by the florist for his second bouquet in twenty-four hours, and naps for a couple hours sprawled over the sofa when he returns after a quick lunch. When he wakes he answers a few work emails and catches a handful of episodes of some Japanese soap opera on the flatscreen to kill time. On his way out the door well after 7, he fluffs the bouquet of carnations on the table.

 

The dinner rush is winding down by the time Jesse wanders into the shop. Hanzo and one of his employees toil away at the counter, and he doesn’t even notice Jesse until he waltzes over to fill the one remaining space at the bar. It isn’t his normal seat, but he’ll survive.

 

“Howdy, boss,” Jesse says, slipping his hat into his lap. Hanzo glances briefly up and says something to the woman to his left before he shifts over to stand parallel to Jesse.

 

“What will you have?” he asks. Jesse grins.

 

“Think you mean ‘who’.”

 

“You have come at a very inopportune time if that is what you are here for,” Hanzo says and takes a steaming bowl of ramen from his employee and serves it to the woman next to Jesse.

 

“All I’m hearing is that there _is_ an opportune time for it.” Jesse rests his chin on his propped up metal arm.

 

“Of course that is what you would hear.” Hanzo’s face remains unmoved. “Is there something on the menu that you would like or are you just going to take up that seat to stare at me?”

 

“Very tempting,” Jesse says but when Hanzo only narrows his eyes, takes a quick look at the menu. As if he doesn’t know it by heart by now. He orders one of his favorites and Hanzo nods.

 

Jesse likes watching him work - his quick hands and confident movements. There’s some color in his cheeks, his eyes alert.

 

“So you have come to stare after all,” Hanzo says after a moment.

 

“Nah, I’m just here for the good food and to take the chef home afterwards. The view’s just gravy.”

 

“The chef suggests you keep yourself under control, cowboy.”

 

“Oh honey, I’ll try. Can’t tell you what he does to me, though.” Jesse puts a hand to his heart with a deep belly sigh. Hanzo’s gaze flickers up just long enough to catch Jesse’s eye before he’s back to it, all business.

 

There are more furred and feathered folk in tonight than usual, Jesse notices after a few long moments. He keeps his eyes on his phone as he tries to identify them all by smell alone.

 

A couple foxes. Something with wings. Something big, with a powerful scent - a bear, maybe. And the dragon across from him.

 

There are others that must have been in here before, a last rest of their scent lingering. He turns his head just a little to get a look at the bear and sees a young woman sitting at one of the tables in the back, sipping tea and making pleasant conversation with one of Hanzo’s employees.

 

He smiles to himself as he turns back to the counter, just in time to see Hanzo put a big bowl of ramen in front of him.

 

He sighs contently, his stomach rumbling in response to the smell. He didn’t even realize how hungry he’s gotten.

 

“You act like you have not had this exact meal a dozen times in the last two weeks alone,” Hanzo says, watching him from across the counter.

 

“Every time is an experience.”

 

“You find a lot of joy in the strangest things,” Hanzo says, not entirely without fondness.

 

“It’s a gift,” Jesse agrees.

 

Jesse finishes a couple bowls, and even though he’s nearly stuffed, he orders himself some dumplings as well. He’ll need the energy, he figures. Hanzo gives him a _look_ , but wordlessly fills his order and keeps the tea coming.

 

Slowly but surely over the next few hours, people trickle out more than in, and for the most part, Jesse has Hanzo to himself. Still, until everyone has been well cared for, Hanzo doesn’t spare him all the attention he’d like. Which, in all fairness, would be all of it.

 

By the time the last fox leaves, the sun has gone down and it’s slowly getting dark outside. Hanzo serves Jesse more tea and begins cleaning up.

 

“So you went to see my brother, then?” he suddenly asks, not looking up while he wipes down the counter.

 

“No, I went to get your stuff. But yeah, he was there.”

 

Hanzo pauses for a second. “Was he…”

 

“Yeah.” Jesse could joke, something witty already on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down. “He doesn’t think you’re avoiding him or anything.”

 

He can see Hanzo’s grip on the rag tightening. “Good.”

 

“I think he and Zenyatta are just as glad to have the place to themselves as I am to have you at mine. Privacy an’ all that.”

 

There’s just a hint of a smile on Hanzo’s face but it’s still like the first sip of water after wandering through the desert. “I did not think you worried about that.”

 

“What, privacy?” Jesse gives him a pair of finger guns. “I don’t if you don’t, sweet thing.”

 

“I most certainly do.”

 

Jesse sighs, pressing a hand to his heart. “Yeah, s’pose I figured.”

 

In spite of the sparsity of his clientele, Hanzo’s employees don’t bid them both farewell until after 9, and even with the door locked, Hanzo remains to finish a few things up. Jesse waits for him without fuss, thumbing through his phone and making puppy eyes at his sweetheart in turn.

 

In a fit of whimsy, Jesse lifts his phone and snaps a few candids of Hanzo in rapid succession. Hanzo startles like a rabbit, glaring at him where he’s hunched over the register.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“That a rhetorical question?”

 

Hanzo’s scowl deepens.

 

“I don’t have any pictures of you,” Jesse says and quickly takes another even though he expects Hanzo to leap at him over the counter.

 

“Is your memory so poor?”

 

“I hope not,” Jesse laughs. “But doesn’t hurt to refresh it now and again.” He lifts the phone as if to take another shot.

 

Hanzo is around the counter as quickly as Jesse anticipated but the way he snatches the phone from his hand is even quicker. Jesse makes a noise of complaint but at least this allows him to palm at Hanzo’s waist. Hanzo doesn’t step away, only holds the phone out of Jesse’s immediate reach as he’s looking through the pictures.

 

“These are terrible,” he tells him.

 

“Bullshit,” Jesse says, already a little distracted by Hanzo’s scent up close so suddenly. “You look gorgeous as always.”

 

“That was more a comment on the skill of the photographer,” Hanzo says and hands the phone back. Jesse notices that he doesn’t delete the pictures, however, but he chooses to grin and stay quiet for once.

 

After briefly nuzzling his chest, Jesse lets him go. Hanzo returns to his task and Jesse leans back, eying him up. “Say,” he says, scratching at the grain of his stubble. “You could take a few pics of me if you like.”

 

“A kind gift,” Hanzo deadpans. Jesse pushes his bottom lip out.

 

“Aww, Mister Shimada, don’t be like that. You’re gonna want pics of me when I’m gone.”

 

He sits up straight, whipping out his phone again to turn the camera on himself. He takes a dozen rapidfire selfies, changing his expression quick as anything for each, and sends them all en masse to Hanzo’s phone.

 

Hanzo freezes when his phone lets off twelve gunshot noises in a row, overlapped. Jesse looks at him slack jawed when the last one fades into a tinny version of The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly before Hanzo can hastily swipe it off.

 

“You,” Jesse starts, but Hanzo narrows his eyes.

 

“Be silent.”  
  
“You gave me a real goddamn cowboy ringtone! Is that personalized?”

 

“What an asinine question,” Hanzo hisses. “What other cowmen do I know?”

 

Jesse covers his heart with one hand and sighs. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

 

Hanzo’s tongue clicks. “That is incredibly sad.”

 

Jesse starts looking through his phone’s settings. “I should set a special ringtone for you too. You’re making me look bad!”

 

“Can we not pretend this never happened?”

 

“No way!”

 

Hanzo gets his phone back out. “Look, I am changing it right now.”

 

“Don’t you dare!” Jesse is out of his seat and behind the counter before Hanzo even has time to put in his pin. He lets out a small indignified huff when Jesse crowds him against the counter to snatch his phone away.

 

“You are not allowed behind the counter,” Hanzo says, holding the phone out of Jesse’s reach.

 

“I’ve been here before,” Jesse protests, holding on to Hanzo’s hip with one hand while he tries to grab his arm.

 

“For chopping and... That is beside the point.” There’s a deep flush on Hanzo’s cheeks as he glares up at Jesse.

 

Jesse can see the bob of his throat as he swallows and he doesn’t really care much about the phone anymore. “Will you keep the ringtone?” he asks. “Please?”

 

Hanzo’s scowl only deepens. “Fine,” he mumbles. “I did not know you would make such a fuss about it.”

 

“It’s cute,” Jesse tells him, heart thumping like a schoolboy. His fingers drift to circle around Hanzo’s wrist, and Jesse gives in, pressing his nose against a hot cheek before it drifts down to Hanzo’s jaw. “You’re cute, you know that?”

 

“Cease,” Hanzo grumbles. Jesse makes to call his bluff, pulling back before Hanzo makes a noise of frustration and hauls him back by his belt buckle.

 

“Hey,” he says with a grin wider than Texas pressed just under Hanzo’s ear. “I was thinkin’ of takin’ you home.”

 

“Hmm.” Hanzo tugs a little harder at his belt buckle. Jesse catches himself on the counter at Hanzo’s hips to keep his balance. “I will allow it.”

 

But he keeps holding on to Jesse’s belt, looking up at him with a defiant expression on his face. Jesse knows that kind of look well by now. He ducks in for a kiss and Hanzo makes a satisfied little sound in the back of his throat. It quickly turns into an angry huff when Jesse only brushes his lips against Hanzo’s before pulling back.

 

“I’ve mentioned that you’re pretty bossy before, right?” Jesse asks, fully aware of the little frown in between Hanzo’s eyebrows and the way his gaze keeps wandering back to his lips.

 

“Why? Have you changed your mind about taking me home?”

 

“Not in a million years, sweetheart.” He leans against him, just a little bit to let him feel his weight and relishes the way Hanzo’s grip on his belt buckle tightens. “Just checking.”

 

He kisses him properly then, one hand sliding around to his back. Nipping his bottom lip earns him a growl from somewhere deep in Hanzo’s chest that has his heart beating faster.

 

“Maybe you’d wanna do that soon,” Jesse suggests, half muffled against the press of Hanzo’s mouth to his. Hanzo ignores him, slipping his hands into Jesse’s jacket to feel up the line of his spine. Jesse twitches and moves against him like a goddamn dog getting scratched. 

 

Jesse finally pulls back when a needy whine starts to build in his chest, reminding himself that he has a purpose that has nothing at all to do with rutting against his sweetheart in a darkened restaurant.

 

“C’mon sugar, let me take you home.”

 

Hanzo looks up at him, his eyes dark and his lips slightly parted, and damn, if it isn’t almost enough to make him throw all his plans overboard and tear off his clothes right there against the counter. Jesse takes a deep breath and sees Hanzo do the same.

 

“Alright,” he says and digs his fingers into the meat of Jesse’s back for a moment before letting him step back. “Take me home.”

On the way to Jesse’s place, Hanzo slips his hand into his like it’s the most normal thing in the world and Jesse doesn’t even try to hide his grin.

 

“So you did clean,” Hanzo says when Jesse lets him into the apartment.

 

Jesse laughs and shrugs off his jacket. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

 

He toes out of his boots in twice the time it takes Hanzo to slip out of his shoes and leave them neatly by the door. “You eat at the shop?”

 

“I did,” Hanzo answers, tossing his jacket over a chair at the table before he turns back to Jesse, an expectant look on his face. Jesse mirrors his stance, hands on his hips.

 

“Think I’ll ravage you now,” he says, sweeping his toe over the floor. Hanzo snorts and steps up to him, drawing him down into a kiss.

 

It’s real cinematic, the way they trail their clothes all the way to the bedroom. Hanzo’s gonna be prickly about that later when he can’t find his silky underthings, Jesse figures, and crowds Hanzo up against the wall. He smells like sweat and beef broth, but that doesn’t turn Jesse off nearly as much as it ought.

 

Hanzo is breathing hard and Jesse decides it’s a good look on him, pressed up against the wall with his cheeks flushed and his eyes so dark a man could drown in them. He leans in and kisses him, long and hard, and Hanzo makes a soft needy noise. Jesse has to keep himself from shamelessly rutting against him, even though it’s all he wants.

 

“Hold on,” Jesse says and hooks his hands underneath Hanzo’s thighs. Hanzo makes a surprised sound but lets himself be lifted up willingly, wrapping his legs around Jesse’s waist like he’s just been waiting to do so.

 

Hanzo’s laughter is low and but runs through Jesse like a shiver. He tips up Jesse’s chin to kiss him again. He buries both his hands in his hair, scraping his nails across his skull before tugging gently. The sensation of it goes straight to Jesse’s dick and he growls, the grip of Hanzo’s thighs tightening. It earns him a sharper tug.

 

They fall into bed, rumpling the immaculate bedclothes. Somehow, Jesse manages to get a hand between them, rolling Hanzo and himself to their sides. He slots a leg between both of Hanzo’s thighs, panting hot and heavy against his crown with every rock of their bodies.

 

It’s quick and dirty, Jesse’s mouth pressing sloppy against Hanzo’s when he feels the prick of nails digging into his arms, Hanzo’s breath coming in short gasps. Hanzo grunts something in Japanese, and Jesse resolves himself to learning the damn language as he goes taut against Jesse. He makes a mess of them both, and Jesse follows not long after, teeth dug into the meat of Hanzo’s shoulder.

 

There are a few pretty bruises all over Hanzo’s skin, and Jesse’d prod them if he didn’t think he’d get in trouble for it.

 

Hanzo spends all of three minutes basking in the afterglow at Jesse’s side before he grunts. Sits up. “Aw, sugar. Leaving so soon?”

 

“I am going to shower.”  


Jesse gets his bottom lip a-quivering as Hanzo leaves for the bathroom like it’s not all according to plan.

 

As soon as the bathroom door closes behind him, swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He rolls his shoulders. Apart from the night of the full moon, his control is pretty good. Not nearly as good as Hanzo’s but then again, he’s never met anyone with control like that.

 

He lets the shift roll over him like a wave and it’s like taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long. Sure, he’s sprouting fangs and claws and fur and that pesky traitor of a tail, but it’s not like it’s unpleasant. Quite the opposite, actually.

 

There’s a tiny voice in the back of his head, asking how it must feel for Hanzo, never really releasing all that energy.

 

The senses come rushing in not a second later. He can hear the water of the shower in the bathroom. The smell of sex is heavy in the air, making him shift restlessly until he gets up and paces around the room for a bit. It’s not been ten minutes since he came all over Hanzo’s pretty chest and stomach, but the wolf doesn’t seem to care about that at all. He goes to open a window just to smell anything other than Hanzo for a moment. He’ll need a clear head for this.

 

When the bathroom door swings open, Jesse turns to face Hanzo, who stares at him mid-step outside the door.

 

“Howdy,” he growls.

 

Hanzo narrows his eyes, but doesn’t comment on it, toweling at his wet hair. “The shower is free,” he says, gaze flickering from Jesse to the wall. Jesse’s chuckle comes out more like a series of whuffs as he turns from the window.

 

“Ain’t got much use for that right now, damn thing’s so small. Just waitin’ for you to come back to bed.”

 

Jesse delicately works a clean blanket from the closet shelf and drapes it over the bed with his claws. He’s got no use for it himself, what with the fur and all, but he suffers no illusions that Hanzo will share a similar fate. Once that’s done, Jesse flops onto the bed with a satisfied huff, ignoring the groan it gives under his weight. He peers out at Hanzo with one sleepy eye. “Care to join me?”

 

There’s a steep line in between Hanzo’s eyebrows as he watches him, arms folded. “What are you doing?”

 

“Trying to get you in bed,” Jesse says and pats the empty spot next to him. “For sleeping.”

 

Hanzo clicks his tongue and doesn’t move an inch. “Do not insult me. You know what I mean.”

 

“Surely you haven’t forgotten that you’ve seen me like this before,” Jesse says and props himself up on an elbow.

 

“It is not the full moon,” Hanzo simply says and there’s a hint of frustration in his voice.

 

“Don’t need the full moon to turn. Sometimes I just like to be in this form for a while.” He winks. “It’s healthy.”

 

Hanzo’s expression smooths. “So this is some kind of lesson, then.” It’s not a question and the frustration is clear in his voice now.

 

Jesse sits up. “I’m not here to teach you a lesson, honey. Just showing you how I live. And this,” he makes an all-encompassing gesture, “this is all part of it.”

 

The look Hanzo gives him is all skepticism, and he climbs into bed with a noise of dissatisfaction. Still, Jesse counts it as a win and reaches out when he‘s close enough, tugging him closer with a metal claw. “C’mere,” he rumbles, stuffing his muzzle into the crook of Hanzo’s neck.

 

He can feel his tail thump lazily against the side of the bed a quiet series of whumps that picks up speed when Hanzo’s fingers hesitantly creep into his fur. He combs through the scruff of his neck until Jesse gives in and rolls onto his back with a huff. Bares his belly to the dragon.

 

“Magic fingers,” he growls, curling and uncurling his clawed toes. Hanzo breathes a quick laugh and runs a wide palm down his chest.

 

“You are an animal,” he says, amused. Jesse lets his mouth split down in a wide toothy grin.

 

“Why _thank_ you.”

 

Hanzo scrapes his nails across his skin, all dull and human but the sensation still makes Jesse shiver. He lets out a satisfied sigh and his eyes slide closed.

 

“You do not mind this?” Hanzo asks after a while, his hand drawing lazy circles through Jesse’s fur.

 

“A gorgeous man petting me? Not in the slightest.”

 

“No, I mean…” Hanzo’s fingers still for a moment and he looks up at him. “Being in this form does not bother you.”

 

Jesse keeps his eyes on Hanzo, looking for any sign of anger or shutting down. He only looks contemplative. “It only gets inconvenient when I’m somewhere where there’s not a lot of space to move around. Can’t tell you how often I’ve knocked things over with my tail or because I forgot how big I was.” He smiles and is a little relieved to see it mirrored on Hanzo’s face.

 

“Of course the size would be a problem,” Hanzo says, his hand settling low on Jesse’s stomach.

 

“Rarely.” Jesse winks. “But most of the time it’s just comfortable. Like a good stretch. Took a while to accept that, though. But keeping it in for too long only makes me feel antsy.”

 

Jesse drags an organic hand down Hanzo’s forearm where it rests over his body. “Ain’t prudent to use this body in the quiet streets of Hanamura, but you should see me in Russia. I’d forget I had my own tiny form if I was stationed there any more’n usual.”

 

Hanzo slowly relaxes against him, his body impossibly small. “You are well-traveled.”

 

“Comes with the job,” Jesse nods, closing his eyes. The way Hanzo’s fingers rake over his ribs is heaven. Hanzo makes a noise, contemplative.

 

“Fortunate,” he murmurs.

 

Jesse cracks an eye open to peer at him. “You never…?”

 

“I have visited South Korea, twice during my studies.” He runs a hand up Jesse’s throat. “My father took me on a business trip to China when I was very young. This was the time I spent abroad.”

 

“Dang.” Jesse rests a paw over his hand. “Never been to Korea. What’s it like?”

 

“I could not tell you. I studied during the duration of my stays.”

 

Jesse snorts. “Sounds like you.”

 

“And when I was not studying, I was drinking.”

 

“Party nerd.”

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

Jesse laughs and he knows Hanzo can feel it through the fingers on his throat. “Never mind.” He stays quiet for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of Hanzo’s touch. “The world is a really big place, you know?”

 

“So I have heard.”

 

“There’s a lot more to see than Hanamura.”

 

“Is this the part where you tell you can show me a whole new world?”

 

Jesse blinks and looks at Hanzo. The smile on his face is small but encouraging. “Could be.”

 

The fingers on his throat tighten for a second before Hanzo slips them out from under Jesse’s hand and sighs. “I have the shop.”

 

“I thought we already covered the general concept of vacation,” Jesse says and catches Hanzo’s hand on his chest.

 

Hanzo rests his head on his shoulder and even though he can’t see his face like this, Jesse can hear the uncertainty in his voice. “It is not as simple as you make it sound.”

 

“Fair enough.” Jesse’s tail thumps between his legs, damnable thing. “Something to think about, anyway. We got time.”

 

The thought is a hopeful one, given strength now that it’s shared between them. Jesse drags the tips of his claws feather-light over the back of Hanzo’s hand. “Hey, Hanzo.”

 

The head on his shoulder shifts, lifting slightly. “Jesse?”

 

“Think you could get this spot just behind my ears? I’d appreciate it somethin’ awful.”

 

Hanzo drags the pillow out from under him and shoves it over his head. “Goodnight, McCree,” he sweetly says.

  
Muffled, Jesse returns the sentiment.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These last couple chapters, and presumably the ones going forward, are all prefaced by "Chapter by Byacolate". Idk why this is suddenly A Thing. I'm editing and posting the chapters, but the work that goes into the fic itself is split down the middle between mywordsflyup and I, and I can't seem to change this setting. If anyone else knows how, hmu. - B

Jesse wakes to the sun on his face and Hanzo watching him. He groans as he shields his eyes from the light with one hand and rolls over to his side. 

 

“Mornin’,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. “How long've you been awake?” 

 

“Not long,” Hanzo says and shifts a bit to adjust Jesse’s new position.

 

It’s probably not exactly true, judging by the way Hanzo’s hair doesn’t look quite as disheveled as usual and his eyes don’t look sleepy at all. He still smells like sleep though, Jesse finds as he pulls him close and buries his nose in his soft hair. Sleep and soap and Jesse. 

 

“You changed back,” Hanzo says and pats his chest. 

 

“Yeah, that usually happens when I fall asleep.” Jesse grins. “Why? You miss the fur?” 

 

“The tail perhaps.”

 

Jesse scoffs. “You would. That tail’s a traitor.” 

 

Hanzo’s laugh is soft and warm. “Not the only one,” he says and noses at the side of Jesse’s neck. His voice changes to a low grumble, the nails scratching across the skin of Jesse’s chest suddenly sharp. “You still have not showered.” 

 

The way he says it makes the muscles in Jesse’s stomach twitch. “Huh,” is all he gets out, his throat impossibly tight. He swallows. “Shame that shower’s still so small. Y’gonna let me make you breakfast?”

 

“Not if I can help it,” Hanzo answers warmly.

 

He trudges in, tragically alone, and scrubs the sweat and yesterday’s funk off of himself. And just as soon as he’s out, not even fully dry, he allows the change to take him again. 

 

Somehow Hanzo seems even more surprised to see him like this now, claws clicking on the kitchen tiles. “Whatever you’re making smells mighty fine,” he rumbles, snuffling at Hanzo’s shoulder. 

 

“My options were limited,” Hanzo says. “Your fridge is a disgrace.” 

 

Jesse lets one clawed hand wander around Hanzo’s waist and settle on his stomach. Hanzo allows it, leaning back against him just a little bit. “We can’t all be professional chefs.” 

 

“Clearly.” Hanzo flips the eggs. “You will need a lot more food if you plan on keeping this up.” 

 

Jesse hums and noses at the side of Hanzo’s neck. “Is that your way of telling me you want to spend the day in bed?” 

 

“I was talking about your form,” Hanzo says and slips out of Jesse’s arms with ease, taking the pan with eggs with him. Jesse makes no attempt to silence his whine. 

 

“Those are not necessarily mutually exclusive, you know?” 

 

Hanzo’s face is unreadable when he looks at him before turning around and heaping the eggs onto the plates on the table. “Eat.” 

 

Inevitably, Jesse makes a goddamn mess of himself, trying to eat a pile of eggs with a face like his. Hanzo looks awful smug about it too, like he’d known it’d be this way. That’s alright - Jesse doesn’t mind giving him these small victories. 

 

Even so, he doesn’t change back even to brush his teeth, meticulously scrubbing each and every fang in his gob squeezed up right beside Hanzo in front of the bathroom mirror.

 

“Ridiculuff,” Hanzo mumbles around his toothbrush. Jesse grins real wide.

 

He only finally changes back when Hanzo’s doing his hair up all nice and pretty. It gives Jesse enough time to slip into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before Hanzo’s putting on his own shoes. There are plenty of parts of the world where it isn’t taboo to walk around in whatever form you were given, but Jesse isn’t confident enough in the small Japanese town mentality to go waltzing about the streets in fur.

 

Hanzo raises an eyebrow when he sees him yawning wide, trying to get a feel for his human jaw again. It’s always been the most uncomfortable part of the shift for Jesse but he finds it gets a million times better when Hanzo pulls him down for a quick kiss before the leave the apartment. 

 

“What was that for?” he asks, fruitlessly trying to grab him as he slips through the open door. Hanzo’s too quick, as usual. 

 

“It seems I have to make the most of the time now when you do not have a muzzle.” 

 

Jesse grins and follows him and pulls the door shut behind him. “I could always lick you. See how you like that.” 

 

“You could certainly try. Although I thought you valued your life more than that,” Hanzo says but slips his hand into Jesse’s as soon as they’re on the street. 

 

It’s a nice sunny day. Too nice to spend it working inside, but Jesse knows it’s no use to even bring it up. Hanzo's too responsible for his own good. 

 

“So about tonight,” he starts, only to realize halfway through that he has no idea how to gracefully end the sentence without making him sound too presumptuous.  


 

“Yes?” 

 

“When I went to your place yesterday, I packed clothes for a few days. Just in case. But I wasn’t sure if -”

 

“If you do not mind,” Hanzo says quickly, staring straight ahead, “I would like to stay another night.” 

 

“Hell, sugar. That’s more than fine by me:”

 

Hanzo steps away while Jesse’s locking up so quick Jesse might have missed his smile.

 

“Yes. I thought it might be.”

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

Jesse doesn’t see Genji again for nearly a full week, when Hanzo finally has enough of Jesse’s dinky little matchbox of an apartment and returns home. Jesse takes his things over while Hanzo‘s at work, and meets Genji just outside the gate... scaling a wall. Like some sort of spider monkey.

 

Jesse whistles low, tipping his hat up when Genji perches at the top of the gate. “Can your brother do that, Mister Shimada?”

 

“Ask him yourself,” Genji calls back with a salute before hopping off the other side. It gives Jesse a tiny heart attack, but when he hears Genji’s laugh retreat into the distance, he figures he must not have offed himself in the process. 

 

He takes Hanzo’s things into his room, just like left it a week earlier, and afterwards follows the sound of music to the kitchen. 

 

Genji isn’t cooking this time but cleaning, dancing his way through the kitchen. He appears to be completely unabashed when he spots Jesse in the doorway but picks up the remote from the counter to turn down the volume a bit. 

 

“So I take it my brother is returning home?” 

 

“Yeah, after work tonight.” 

 

Genji nods, kneading the rag in his hands. “Is he… How is he?” 

 

Jesse folds his arms and leans against the door frame. “He’s good,” he says. And then, when he sees Genji’s skeptical expression, “Better now. Just sick of my apartment, I guess.” 

 

Genji’s smile is a little tentative but it’s still good to see. “That is difficult to believe.” 

 

“Well now,” Jesse chuckles. “Didn’t say he was sick of the man inside it.”

 

When Genji offers to brew him a cup of tea, he accepts, leaning against the counter while Genji stuffs a diffuser with a blend made entirely of dried flowers. Jesse’s foot taps along to the soft bop of music while he answers a few emails on his phone, grimacing a little at the plane ticket confirmation sitting in his inbox.

 

“Where’d your metal man get off to?” he asks, pocketing his phone when Genji hands him a steaming cup. Genji flashes a quick grin down at his own cup, fond. Maybe a little sly.

 

“Recharging. We were out a little late last night.”

 

“I take it you two weren’t meditating.”

 

Genji smiles a little wider; Jesse gets a good look at his pearly whites. “I drove him to the sea. We trained long after nightfall.”

 

With a gust of breath to cool it, Jesse takes a sip of his tea. It tastes light, if a little bitter. Smooth. “I know a guy - old fella, bigger'n your front gate - who’d die to fight a dragon. After watching you two, ‘m not so sure he has the reflexes for it. Zenyatta’s living his dream.”

 

Genji grins. “Perhaps I am just faster than most dragons.”

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

 

Genji takes a sip of his tea and makes a pleased noise before leaning back against the counter. He eyes Jesse over rim of his cup like he’s waiting for him to say something else. 

 

They might as well just get to it then. 

 

“Have you decided when you’re gonna leave?” Jesse asks and the little twitch at the corner of Genji’s mouth tells him that’s exactly what he waited for. “Not really thrilled about the idea of Hanzo coming back here only for you to pack your bags and leave the next day, you know?”

 

“Understandable.” If Genji takes offense at Jesse’s bluntness, he doesn’t show it. “But you do not need to worry. We have not made any plans yet.” 

 

“Good,” Jesse says and takes a sip of tea just to bridge the silence. 

 

“What about you, McCree? Are your bags packed already?” There’s no malice in Genji’s tone, just the sharp edge of something Jesse can’t quite put his finger on. 

 

He supposes it’s only fair. “I’ve got another week,” he says. And then, when Genji doesn’t respond, “Hanzo knows. We’ve… talked about it.” 

 

“Good,” Genji says, imitating Jesse’s tone perfectly. 

 

Jesse rubs the back of his neck with a free hand, staring down at his tea. “Don’t know what happened, but… he’s real special to me." 

 

Genji quirks a brow with so much flair it has to be practiced. 

 

“You will return to Hanamura, then?”

 

Jesse peeks up at him. “'Course I will.”

 

Genji snorts. “You should not expect him to come see you.”

 

“Nah,” Jesse chuckles, swirling his tea around a little before another sip. “Well…”

 

“Well?”

 

Another expert brow quirk. Jesse tries to imitate him. Must not do too terribly well or subtly if Genji’s smirk is anything to judge by. “Might get him outta here for awhile if I talk real sweet.”

 

Genji looks at him for a long moment, his face unreadable. Jesse can’t shake the feeling that he’s being appraised and scrutinized all over again like it’s the first time. “Well,” Genji says and puts his cup down on the counter, “you would be the first one.”

 

“Figured as much.” 

 

“I think you might have a better chance than most.” Something softens in Genji’s expression, just the slightest shift. “That is not something I ever thought I would say.”

 

Jesse grins. “I’ve done a lot of that lately. Saying things I never thought I would.” It’s as much a confession as anything and Genji takes it for what it is, with a nod and a smile. 

 

“I know the feeling.”

 

Zenyatta floats into the room not a minute later, like he’s only been waiting in the wings for his cue. 

 

“It is good to see you again,” he tells Jesse with a little head tilt while Genji refills their cups and pours a third one for Zenyatta. 

 

“Same to you,” Jesse offers, nodding back. He only just barely keeps himself from asking to watch them go at it again, the ten-year-old inside of him desperate to watch another dragon fight, but Jesse McCree ain’t that impolite. 

 

But it’s not just the dragon he’s curious about.

 

“You wouldn’t consider a spar with little ol’ me, would you, Zenyatta?”

 

Zenyatta - feet planted on the floor for what feels like the first time Jesse’s ever seen - gives him a quick look over. “I would be honored, Jesse McCree.” Jesse can practically feel his ears perk up.

 

“Really? Well shoot, just say when.”

 

“You will be crushed,” Genji says so pleasantly it borders on sweet. 

 

“Hey now!” Jesse protests. “Not in the first round! I’m a lot quicker’n I seem!”

 

Genji grins and brushes his shoulder against Zenyatta. “I remember saying something along those lines once.” 

 

“And you were not wrong,” Zenyatta says amiably. 

 

“That did not save me from defeat.” 

 

Zenyatta hums. “Every defeat is but a step in one's stride toward improvement." 

 

Genji’s laughter is loud and clear as a bell. “As you say, Master. A lesson learned, in any case.” The fondness with which he looks at Zenyatta is almost too much to bear, like something far too private for Jesse to watch. 

 

Zenyatta turns his head to Jesse. “We train in the mornings but I would be happy to spar with you once we are through.” 

 

“Sounds good to me.” 

 

Genji leans back against the counter, a sly smile on his face. “He is doing you a kindness not to spar with you when he is fully rested.” 

 

“Now, y’all are pickin’ on me,” Jesse says, wagging a finger. “I don’t rightly think I deserve this kinda sass until you’ve seen what I’m capable of.”

 

Not two hours later, back flat against the dojo floor, Jesse starts to reevaluate his life choices. The worst part is knowing he’d thrown his own damn self to the floor - one misstep, one fluid dodge from Zenyatta, and Jesse had sabotaged himself.

 

Above him Zenyatta floats, calm as anything, and lowers a hand to Jesse. He takes it - metal on metal - and lets himself be pulled upright once more.

 

“Alright,” he groans, stretching his arms toward the ceiling. “You got me. I may be a little out of practice.”

 

“A little?” Genji calls, leaning against the wall not ten yards away. 

 

Zenyatta says. “You are doing quite well.”

 

“You bein' nice about it only makes it worse,” Jesse groans and rubs the spot on his elbow where he knows he’ll sport an impressive bruise in the morning. 

 

“I have yet to land a hit,” Zenyatta says and something about the way he tilts his head tells Jesse just how amused he really is. 

 

“That’s because I keep falling over all by myself.” 

 

A few minutes later and he’s back on the floor, wincing at the pain in his backside. Zenyatta didn’t even touch him. 

 

“When you are that slow, he will see your every move before you even think it,” Genji says, the smile on his face more proud than mocking. 

 

Jesse doesn’t think he’s particularly slow but the hard floorboards he hits face first not thirty seconds later beg to differ. He has half a mind to sprout some fur and claws just to get himself some kind of advantage but just thinking it seems laughably desperate to him. 

 

Besides - if a dragon could hardly touch him, what chance did a wolf have?   
  


It takes one more heavy fall for McCree to raise the proverbial white flag, limping off to the sidelines rubbing his various bruises and aches. 

 

“I ain’t much for grappling,” he confesses, taking the lukewarm bottle of water Genji hands him. “Gimme a pistol though, and I’ll…”

 

Genji gives him a look. “You will… what? You will shoot a monk?”

 

“See, I knew it was the wrong way to start before I finished the damn sentence.”

 

He takes a long pull of the water as Zenyatta comes to join them, granting a golden orb to Jesse. Much like his unfortunate encounter with Genji’s hot sauce, whatever energy flows through it warms him from the inside out. His aches recede, and if he looked, he suspects the bruises on his backside might’ve disappeared.

 

“I’ve got even more respect for you now,” he tells Genji despite that insufferable grin. 

 

“You take defeat with much more grace than I expected,” Genji says, amused. 

 

“Got used to it. Training with my boss made me positively humble.” 

 

“I would not go that far.”

 

Jesse rolls the stiffness out of his shoulders and his gaze wanders to the spot where Hanzo had him pinned to the ground not two weeks ago. “Maybe it’s about the speed. Your brother has the same advantage.” 

 

“He is fast,” Genji says, smiling as if at a private joke. “I like to think we are more evenly matched now than we used to be.” 

 

“A difficult comparison,” Zenyatta says. “But one worth exploring.”

 

“My brother is more like you. He would choose archery over this any day.” 

 

Jesse perks up. “He mentioned something like that once.”

 

Genji flips his own bottle of water, catching it with the opposite hand.

 

“I would be surprised if he hadn’t,” he says mildly. “It’s one thing he does that he truly enjoys. Ah…” Genji glances slyly at Jesse. “Until now.”

 

Jesse points a couple finger guns at him before he takes another gulp. “Haven’t seen him at it though.”

 

“When would you have the chance when you must compete with the restaurant? You should convince him to show you before you go. It is truly something to see.”

 

Not much time left, Jesse thinks, but saying it out loud might make the dread he feels in his stomach grow even bigger. “I’ll bet it is,” he says instead, peeling off the label of his water bottle. He can feel Genji watching him. There are more things to say, probably. But whatever it is, they both keep it to themselves. 

  
When Zenyatta asks if Jesse would like to watch him and Genji spar, he agrees - even if his thoughts wander elsewhere. 


	20. Chapter 20

When Jesse enters the shop, Hanzo looks up and smiles at him. Just for a moment, but so open and natural that Jesse can’t help the stupid grin that stretches across his own face. This morning Hanzo was so anxious, the kind of tension even all of Jesse’s reassurances and a good blowjob couldn’t get rid of. 

 

He seems better now, settled in the familiarity of his work. Maybe a week wasn’t enough to deal with the mess of feelings he has about Genji and his dragon form and whatever else is going on in that pretty head of his. But he can’t hide from his brother forever. And neither can he suffer Jesse’s tiny apartment and tinier shower forever. 

 

“You have been working out,” Hanzo says when Jesse takes his usual spot at the counter. 

 

“And here I thought you’d never notice.” Jesse flexes his bicep with a wink but it only earns him a click of the tongue. 

 

“Not that,” Hanzo says. “You smell.” 

 

“Ouch.” Jesse lowers his arm. “That’s mighty cold, sugar. My pride’s been hurt enough for one day.”

 

Hanzo pauses for a moment, watching him. “Zenyatta,” he guesses, his lips curling up into an amused little smile. 

 

“Didn’t take him for a _quick_ sucker!” Jesse groans, collapsing over the counter top. “He ain’t, really. Just knows how to use a man’s weight against him. He’s a damn good sport about it too, and that’s just salt in the wound.”

 

“Do not salt your wounds,” Hanzo tells him, and sets a long ceramic plate of dumplings by his head. Jesse shoots up, snatching a couple chopsticks from the tray. Across the bar, Hanzo makes a noise of vague amusement. 

 

“Genji did not feed you?”

 

Around a mouthful of dumpling, Jesse mumbles, “No sir. Got some tea, fought a robot.”

 

“A full morning.”

 

“It was.” He picks up another dumpling. “Would’ve been nicer with you, though.” 

 

“Which part? Fighting a robot?” 

 

Jesse makes a contemplative noise. “That too. But just the morning in general.” 

 

Hanzo’s laughs is a quiet thing but it still makes Jesse smile. “Have you not have enough of my company?” Hanzo asks. “A week is a long time to spend with someone in such a small space.” 

 

“Not hardly,” Jesse says. When he sees the expression on Hanzo’s face, he tries to hide the weight of his words with a grin. “Not all of us are used to living in a castle.” 

 

“A shame,” Hanzo says dryly and turns fetch Jesse a cup of tea, slipping back into more familiar waters. 

 

“So,” Jesse says, his chopsticks hovering over the dumplings for a moment before he gives up on feigning restraint. “Do you want me to come over tonight or…” 

 

“Or?” 

 

“You know.” Jesse shifts in his seat. “Do you need some time for yourself? For talking to your brother?” 

 

Hanzo stares at him but his hands are steady as ever when he puts the cup of tea in front of Jesse. 

 

“Perhaps,” he agrees slowly. “One night may be for the best.”

 

“For the best,” Jesse agrees, swirling his tea around in the cup. He leans forward on his elbows with a sigh. “I’ll survive a lonesome night without you. Think you could make it up to me tomorrow though.”

 

Hanzo tilts his chin the barest inch, regal curiosity. “Is this so?”

 

With a tip of his hat, Jesse offers up his plan.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

Jesse really ought to have anticipated a state-of-the-art practice range somewhere on the Shimada property, he really ought to have. The targets aren‘t any traditional specimens he’s ever seen in real life before. Caught glimpses on a foreign show once or twice, maybe. Makes him long for Peacekeeper at his hip. There’s really no one he’d rather show off for than the man before him in...

 

Well.

 

McCree assumes this is someone’s idea of proper archery attire. Everything’s prim, right up to (Jesse’s imagined) code, if not for the way he slipped the entire left half of his... robe? off his shoulder.

 

It’s not like he hasn’t seen that chest before or… done wonderful, terrible things with it. But it still catches him off-guard. 

 

Hanzo notices his staring and squares his shoulders, daring him to comment. There isn't an ounce of self-consciousness and Jesse can appreciate it for that alone. The only thing he’s not sure about is if he’s going to be able to focus on anything else when all he wants to do is bury his face in the crook Hanzo’s neck. 

 

His concerns dissipate as soon as Hanzo unstraps the bow from his back. 

 

Jesse whistles appreciatively. “As pretty as her owner.” 

 

Hanzo frowns. “It is a bow.”

 

“Yeah, a _pretty_ one.” 

 

Hanzo looks at him for a moment longer, as if debating whether to press the matter further, but in the end he just turns around and gets into position. “I have not had an audience for a long time,” he says. 

 

“Seems like a damn shame to me.” Hanzo hasn’t even drawn the bow yet but Jesse can already see where the strength in his arms and torso must come from. “Sure is worthy of an audience.”

 

Hanzo flashes him a fleet smile before he lifts his bow.

 

Jesse’s no expert on archery, but he can tell that the fine piece in Hanzo’s hand is no ordinary bow. It’s grand in the way the Shimada estate is grand, in the way Hanzo is grand. Austere. Powerful.

 

He’s so busy ogling Hanzo’s weapon that he all but misses the first shot. Hanzo’s form is impeccable, and he smoothly nocks another arrow as Jesse searches for the first - nestled exactly where it should be; snug as a bug right in the pinprick center of the bullseye. 

 

“Damn,” Jesse whistles. Beside him Hanzo releases another arrow. Jesse claps the hat to his head when it lodges itself dead center, cozied up so close to the other arrow Jesse feels scandalized just looking at them. “Well, sugar,” he drawls. “Consider me impressed.”

 

“You think this is the pinnacle of my skill?” Hanzo scoffs. With his chin he gestures toward a metal panel on a beam of the structure. “Push the red button.”

 

There are several buttons and dials on the panel but when Jesse pushes the red one, he hears a beeping sound before some kind of machinery starts whirring in the back of the room. With a slight jolt, the targets begin to move. 

 

“Now that’s something else.” 

 

They must be mounted on a rail system, smoothly moving from side to side and back and forth, with no apparent rhythm or predictability. 

 

“How do you -”

 

With a thud, another arrow lodges itself right in the center of the nearest bullseye as the target moves to the left. Jesse turns his head to watch Hanzo follow up with another arrow that sails past the moving target in the front to land in the center of one in the back. 

 

“Turn the dial,” Hanzo says calmly. “To three.” 

 

Jesse doesn’t protest. Just steps back to the panel and turns the dial as Hanzo told him to. The movement of the targets speeds up immediately and Hanzo shoots three more arrows, all hitting their marks perfectly. 

 

“Level four, please,” Hanzo says, drawing his bow once more.

 

“I don’t think I could be more impressed than I already am, sweetheart,” Jesse says. His mouth feels a little dry like it did the first time he saw Hanzo out of his clothes. 

 

Hanzo gives him sideways glance, not lowering his bow, and Jesse turns the dial. 

 

By the time Hanzo’s quiver is empty, they’re up to level six. Only one didn’t land perfectly, just off to the right of the bullseye. It prompts Hanzo to click his tongue and follow up with a second arrow, as if to correct his mistake. 

 

Somewhere at level five, Jesse stops watching the arrows hit their targets - his eyes pulled to Hanzo again and again until he just gives up and stares. There’s something mesmerizing about the way his muscles move. The tiny frown of concentration on his face. The absolute focus. Arousal twists deep in Jesse’s belly. 

 

“I was wrong,” Jesse says when Hanzo finally lowers his bow. “It got more impressive. Y’know, I’m a bit of a sharp-shooter myself,” he hears himself rumble as he sidles up to one smirking Shimada. “Sure would like to throw down with you sometime.”

 

“Throw what down?” Hanzo sniffs, eyes as hot and black as coal when Jesse gets right up in his space. “Your weapon, when I take my victory effortlessly?”

 

Jesse hears a low growl start to rumble in his chest. Leans down until he can press his face right up into the bare crook of Hanzo’s shoulder. 

 

“Careful. Where I’m from, those're fightin’ words.”

 

“Hmm.” Hanzo tilts his head ever so slightly until Jesse can feel his lips and the faintest scratch of stubble against his ear. “I will inform you if I am ever intimidated by such things.”

 

Jesse laughs, a little lightheaded, and scrapes his teeth against Hanzo’s bare shoulder. Not even enough to leave a mark, just a playful nip, but Hanzo’s sharp intake of breath is still nice to hear. “I shouldn’t like that so much.”

 

“You really should not,” Hanzo agrees and lifts a hand to run it through Jesse’s hair, leaning his back against him when Jesse snakes a hand around his back. 

 

Jesse doesn’t doubt that even this impressive display didn’t cost Hanzo much effort, but he still smells the clean sweat on his skin and feels the twitch in his muscles when he pulls him close. He places a kiss on the same spot he bit before and Hanzo shivers, the hand in Jesse’s hair still for a second. 

 

“Didn’t think you could get any more intense than you usually are,” Jesse says, leaving a trail of kisses up Hanzo’s neck. 

 

“There are many things you do not know about me,” Hanzo says but if he aimed for a scolding tone it’s lost somewhere in the sigh Jesse draws from him when he nips his earlobe. 

 

“Give damn near anything to find ’em all. Figure you out.”

 

Hanzo leans away after a long moment, putting space between them. Not much, but enough. He doesn’t lower his eyes.

 

“I would like to see it one day,” he says. “Your marksmanship.”

 

A breeze lovingly cards its fingers through Hanzo’s dark hair, and Jesse’s poor heart thuds on.

 

“Then I oughta show you. Make you eat your words. One day.”

 

“One day.”

 

Jesse takes Hanzo by the hand and... well. He doesn‘t need to drag Hanzo any closer to press half a dozen slow kisses to a delicate wrist.

 

“Soon.”

  
  


 

 

 

  
  
  


Jesse wakes up and for just a blissful second, the dread hasn’t caught up with him. Just for a moment, he doesn’t remember that in 24 hours he’ll be on a plane back to his old life instead of here, where he wants to be. 

 

It takes about as long for him to realize that the spot next to him is empty and the only thing he’s hugging close is a pillow. 

 

He makes a sound, something between a grunt and a whine, and blinks against the sunlight streaming in through the windows. He can hear Hanzo moving around in the bathroom and at the noise, he leans back to look through the door. He must have been up for a while, just judging by his clothes and brushed hair. 

 

“Come back to bed,” Jesse says, reaching out with one arm while trying to shield his face from the light with the other. “Can’t let me start my last morning here alone in bed.”

 

“Technically, your day has already started,” Hanzo says, walking back into the room. “And _technically_ it is not your last morning.” 

 

“Tomorrow doesn’t count,” Jesse grumbles, still holding out his hand. “Mornings where I don’t get to love on you don’t count.” 

 

Hanzo scoffs but does a poor job of hiding the fondness in his eyes. “So you want to waste the day in bed?” 

 

“Wouldn’t exactly call that _wasting_ anything…”

 

“I took the day off for you.” 

 

That gets Jesse’s attention. He sits up, even if it means the sunlight hits his face directly. “You did?”

 

Hanzo gives him that familiar frown. “Of course.”

 

The grin on Jesse’s lips could split his face in two. “Of course,” he agrees, just smitten enough to make Hanzo’s expression falter.

 

“I could do no less,” he mumbles, and Jesse’s heart aches for him. 

 

“Come ‘ere,” he tries again, reaching out with his prosthetic. This time he’s met with no resistance; Hanzo comes.

 

He spends an age immersing himself in Hanzo. All his are clothes laid out haphazardly from his open suitcase in the corner of Hanzo’s room in a desperate attempt to absorb the scent. Jesse himself fares no better, drawing himself over Hanzo like he could soak him up right through his pores.

 

“Lord, this is gonna kill me,” he sighs against a smooth collar bone. Hanzo draws a hand over Jesse’s hair and lets himself be dragged down into a horizontal position.

 

“Let us not speak of it,” Hanzo suggests. 

 

“Let’s not talk at all.” 

 

Hanzo seems to agree with that particular course of action, judging by the way he goes about worrying marks into the side of Jesse’s neck - each with love and care and teeth. Jesse is happy to bare his throat, a familiar thing by now. To give himself over to the sensation of it, pleasure running down all the way to his curling toes. 

 

He takes a sharp breath when Hanzo sinks his teeth into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, only to blink a moment later when Hanzo pulls back. 

 

“What’s wrong?” 

 

“It is curious,” Hanzo says, sharp teeth visible when he smiles. “You can be quiet after all.” 

 

Jesse takes the opportunity to run his hands over Hanzo’s back, squeezes his ass once before letting them rest on his thighs. “You doubted me?” 

 

“I had yet to find any convincing evidence.” 

 

He thinks and will always think that it’s corny as hell, but Jesse can’t find a better way to call what they do than making love. He’s not an old man, not even four-and-twenty years to his name, but he ain’t ashamed to admit that much to himself. 

 

They make love, and in the aftermath with his head buried into Hanzo’s chest, panting and higher than high, Jesse clings to him. “I’m real fond of you,” he rasps.

 

Hanzo’s fingers pick through his damp hair. “This is no secret.”

 

“Yeah, but… real, _real_ fond.”

 

Hanzo’s laughter is a sensory jolt within his chest and without. “This, too, is known to me.”

 

Jesse lifts his head all stern-like, though he does lean into the cradle of Hanzo’s palm. “And you’re real fond of me, I reckon.”

 

“Hmm.” Hanzo smiles at him beatifically, sending Jesse’s heart a-tumbling. “There are many things I feel for you, Jesse McCree. I suppose fondness may be one of them.”

 

It grows in his chest, like a warmth that quickly spreads throughout his whole body. A sudden pressure as if his body wasn’t enough to contain it. 

 

To think that in just one day, he’ll be so far from here. So far from this. That he won’t wake up next to Hanzo anymore. Won’t feel his hand on his hip and his body pressed against his back first thing in the morning. That in a week, maybe even less, he won’t be able to find traces of his scent anymore.

 

It’s never felt as shaky as it does now with Hanzo’s body so steady underneath him. 

 

Hanzo’s hand slides further until he runs his fingers through Jesse’s hair and give it a small tug. “You are thinking again.” 

 

“Can’t help it.” 

 

“You are not gone yet,” Hanzo says, his voice thick but with a hint of that commanding edge Jesse’s come to know so well. He pulls him down into a kiss so sweet it breaks his heart all over again. He snuffles at Hanzo‘s throat, his sweaty chest, under his arms, down between his legs, so loses himself in the headiest parts of Hanzo that he doesn’t notice his own shift until there are fingers tugging at the scruff of his neck.

 

“Shameless,” Hanzo sighs. Jesse rests his head along the crease of Hanzo’s thigh and heaves his own long and lonesome sigh.

 

Hesitantly, and in no great hurry, the nails against his scalp grow sharp. A burst of a sharp scent perks Jesse up, and when he lifts his head he can see the creep of blue scales along Hanzo‘s abdomen.

 

“Pretty,” he growls, watching scales sweep up and down Hanzo’s tender inner arm. His shoulders. His neck. 

 

The ones on his cheekbones are still his favorite. 

 

Maybe it’s just his imagination but he thinks the scales spread further now than they ever have before. Or maybe it’s just a trick of the light. 

 

In any case, Hanzo’s teeth are sharp when he smiles at him and Jesse feels something in his chest lurch at the sight. 

 

“Very pretty,” he repeats because Hanzo could stand to hear it as often as possible. 

 

“I did not think I would miss that tail of yours,” Hanzo says, his claws scraping over Jesse’s scalp in the most distracting way. “And yet…”

 

Jesse hasn’t even noticed that traitor of a tail wagging away but at this point, there’s not point in hiding it now. Hanzo already knows how he feels. Jesse stretches all the way to his toes before crawling up again to press his face in the crook of Hanzo’s neck. 

 

“You gonna wait for me, sugar?” he asks, words mouthed and muffled against the smooth heat of his scales. Fondly, he palms his way over the thick musculature of Hanzo’s chest, his stomach, his sides. 

 

“What a question,” Hanzo reprimands, tugging at Jesse’s hair hard enough to make him growl. “I am not a spouse for you to leave behind. I will remain here, and you will not allow me to forget you.”

 

“Not for a second,” Jesse agrees, eager as a puppy. “I’ll blow your damn phone up every hour. Every minute. Every half second.”

 

“I will never use the sound function again.”

 

“Now don’t say somethin’ you’ll regret; you’ll miss The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.”

 

“Now I will  _ definitely _ never use the sound function again.” 

 

Jesse’s laugh is nothing but a rough barking sound. “You say that now…”

 

They stay silent for a while, with Hanzo’s fingers running through his hair and a quiet comfort between them. Jesse thinks he could stay like this forever, in this perfect moment. 

 

“I could visit you, perhaps,” Hanzo says quietly, as if afraid to break the silence. There’s hint of uncertainty in his voice and Jesse waits to let him speak, even though every fiber of his being yearns to jump at the suggestion. “I do not know the specifics and regulations of your employment. But if there is a possibility…” 

 

“It depends,” Jesse says truthfully. There’s no point in promising something just because he wants it to be true. “It’s more likely I’ll be coming back here before we even got the chance.” 

 

“Oh.” Hanzo pauses for a moment. “But not impossible.” 

 

Jesse props himself up on one elbow and looks at him. “You’d leave the shop for that?” 

 

Hanzo frowns. “Not for long. Just… for a holiday.” 

 

He can imagine it. Hanzo in the warm sunshine of Dorado. Hanzo bundled up in coats and scarves against the cold of a Russian winter. “I’d like that.” 

 

“Not now. But… in the future perhaps.” Hanzo averts his gaze, almost as if he’s embarrassed by it. Jesse didn’t think he could be even more enamored with him than he already was.

  
“Oh, Mister Shimada,” Jesse says, flinging an arm and a leg around him and gathering him impossibly close. “I’d like that very much.”


	21. Chapter 21

“You _are_ breaking his heart, right?” 

 

Genji steals the sesame oil from Jesse’s side of the bar, dripping a bit of it in his ramen. Jesse clears his throat, poking around in his bowl at the floating slices of meat. 

 

“Think it’s heartbreak all around, man.”

 

“Yes, but.” Genji talks with his mouth half full, dangling a long bunch of noodles with his chopsticks to cool in the open air. “ _You_ are breaking _his._ Specifically. I think I am supposed to threaten you?”

 

“Long past time for that,” Jesse admits, staring at the doorway to the back room where Hanzo's disappeared. Genji makes a thoughtful noise.

 

“Oh, yes. Am I supposed to make good on a threat now, then? Because it has been done.”

 

“Yeah, I mean. Yeah. If you wanna go a few rounds for your big brother’s honor, I’m game. Can’t rightly say I’ve  _ never  _ fought a ninja dragon before, but hell, I’m always up for another.”

 

Genji eyes him for a second before he drops his noodles back into his bowl and sighs dramatically. “It is no use. I would only ruin your face and then he would get mad at me and ruin  _ my _ face…”

 

“Now that would be a tragedy,” Jesse says, laughing despite himself. 

 

“It would!” Genji runs his his fingers through his hair until it’s standing up in all directions. “A classic tale of woe!” He slumps down a little in his seat, picking up his chopsticks again. “I still feel like I should do  _ something _ .”

 

Jesse shares the feeling but keeps himself from sighing like a big old dog for the hundredth time this morning. It’s the sense of powerlessness that really gets him, he thinks. The feeling of not being able to do anything to stop this running train.

 

He turns his head a little until he sees his bags piled up next to the door, waiting for him. An ugly reminder that from here, it’s straight to the tiny airport just out of town. Just a private little runway and hangar that Overwatch usually uses for extractions. They won’t even get the big dramatic airport goodbye that he knows from the movies. Then again… that’s probably for the best. 

 

Hanzo comes back from the back, a box of vegetables in his arms. His eyes dart to the almost untouched bowl in front of Jesse and he frowns. 

 

“Is something wrong?” he asks. Jesse follows his gaze and picks up his chopsticks.

 

“‘Course not, honey. Nothin’ better on heaven or earth than this here bowl of noodles.”

 

Hanzo looks skeptical, but proceeds to clean and chop the vegetables regardless. Jesse pretends he hasn’t noticed that Genji added an extra helping or two of hot sauce while he was distracted, and manfully bulldozes his way through a sinfully hot bowl of noodles. 

 

“Seems like you got your revenge after all,” he coughs, dabbing at his nose as soon as he’s through. Genji hums.

 

“I don’t know what you are talking about, McCree-san.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’d Mak-ku-ree-san your hide if I didn’t deserve this.”

 

Genji flashes him a bright smile - the closest he gets to baring his teeth. 

 

Jesse breathes through the pain, which only makes the burning in his mouth flare up even more. One would think he’d have learned this by now. 

 

There’s a fresh cup of tea being set down in front of him and when he looks up, he sees Hanzo scowling at Genji. All he gets from Genji in return is a little shrug, all innocence and sweet smiles. 

 

The tea doesn’t help, not really, but at least it gets rid of the taste in his mouth and gives Jesse something to do with his hands when all he wants is to grab Hanzo and pull him close over the counter. Something he’s fairly certain wouldn’t be exactly appreciated. 

 

He contents himself with watching Hanzo work instead - something he’s done more times than he can count since the day he stumbled into this shop for the first time. Even before he knew Hanzo’s name and before he even got close to getting his attention. He’s seen him in different way since then, up close and intimate. But this right here is still one of his favorites. 

 

He takes another bite of his volcanic ramen and pulls the phone from his pocket, tapping away as he chews. When he sends it off, he doesn’t hear his ringtone, but vibrate must be on because Hanzo twitches a little at the counter. But he’s diligent, probably doesn’t even think to reach for it. Jesse smiles fondly and starts tapping away again.

 

Four texts later, and Hanzo looks up to glare at Genji, and then at Jesse when it’s clear that only one of them has their phone out. Jesse gives him a jaunty salute and a wink. Hanzo - sweaty and flushed and beautiful - rolls his eyes and gets back to work.

 

Jesse looks down and reviews his texts:

 

[i love this ramen♡]

 

[i love your shop♡♡]

 

[i love japan♡♡♡] 

 

[i love the way your nose wrinkles when you open a can of spam♡♡♡♡]

 

One corner of his mouth twitches upward as he glances back up at Hanzo. 

 

[i love the way you won’t even check your texts during work ♡♡♡♡♡]

 

Hanzo straightens his back as if there was any need, pointedly ignoring the phone in his pocket. When he disappears into the back of the shop a few minutes later, Jesse is tempted to send him a text about just how much he loves his backside. 

 

Hanzo returns a short while later and starts wiping down the counter in front of Jesse and Genji. He raises an eyebrow when Jesse picks up his phone to get it out the way. 

 

“Is this what I have to look forward to? Endless texts and hearts?” 

 

Jesse can’t help the wide grin that stretches across his face. 

 

“I didn’t know it would turn you into such a deviant. Secretly reading texts in the back.” 

 

Hanzo doesn’t even have the decency to blush at that. He just makes a noise - something that falls between annoyance and fondness. Jesse likes to think it’s more of the latter. 

 

“I reckon you’d like to hear more of the things I love,” Jesse says, stirring the broth in his bowl with an air of nonchalance. 

 

“Cowboy movies and bad alcohol,” Hanzo suggests, ignoring Genji’s snicker. 

 

“Those’re easy. Here, I’ll send you some more.”

 

“Please refrain,” Hanzo says, and then heeds the call of a customer down the bar. Jesse exchanges a look with Genji.

 

“I’m not gonna refrain.”

 

“I had hoped you would not.”

 

They watch Hanzo’s minute twitch with every text Jesse sends, though he handles his patrons with all the grace and poise he always has. He doesn’t even shoot Jesse a look when he returns to the stove with the orders.

 

Jesse leans forward on the counter and rests his chin on his hands. “Don’t you have more things to do in the back?”

 

Hanzo stacks up empty bowls without looking up at Jesse. “I do not believe I do.” 

 

“Mh.” Jesse smiles. “You sure about that?”

 

“Quite sure.” 

 

“So you’re just gonna stay here for the rest of the day? Not that I’m complaining, of course.” 

 

Hanzo finally shoots him a look. There’s a glint of… something in his eyes. “I might.”

 

Genji makes a noise, not quite a snort. “I am surprised you still underestimate my brother’s stubbornness, McCree.” 

 

“It is not _stubbornness,”_ Hanzo says, pulling a few clean bowls from the cupboard. “It is work ethic.” 

 

Jesse taps one finger against his chin. “I'm not familiar with her work.” 

 

Hanzo rolls his eyes again but it doesn’t stop Jesse from sending off another text as soon as his back is turned. 

 

[i love the shape of your hands] he sends, forgetting hearts entirely. It’s God’s honest truth, though; all of it has been. 

 

When Genji turns his attention to his own phone, Jesse sends another.

 

[i love the way you smile with your eyes when you’re tryin to be serious with the rest of ur face]

 

[i love the cute little bow you make w ur apron when you tie it behind your back]

 

[i love the way you always put extra spring onions in my bowl, just for me]

 

[i love] he starts, and stops himself as Hanzo comes to stand before him at the counter. 

 

“Is there anything else I can do for you, troublemaker?” he asks. Jesse’s hand hovers above the phone. Holding up a finger with one hand, he taps three more letters into the message with the other. He turns the phone around and pushes it across the bar toward Hanzo. 

 

“I’m about to send this off to an angel,” he says, quiet in the din of the restaurant. If Hanzo didn’t have to lean over the bar to read the message, he would’ve had to just to hear him. “A real sweetheart. Probably the prettiest, cleverest boy I’ve ever met. I tell you, Shimada-san, he does my heart in. What do you think he’d make of this?”

 

He gets to see the blushing then, how it creeps down Hanzo’s neck all the way from his cheeks. His eyes dart up and he looks at Jesse, searches his face. 

 

“I think,” he starts but his voice breaks a little at the end. “I think he would consider going into the back after all.” He straightens up a little, the color in his cheeks still very pronounced. “And perhaps he would ask you for some help. For… heavy lifting.” His blush deepens but by the time he turns around, he seems to have found a least a minimum of that old composure. 

 

It’s impossible to tell how much Genji has overheard of their conversation but that doesn’t stop him from letting out a low whistle when Jesse all but falls off his stool to follow Hanzo. For once, Jesse just ignores him, his heart beating wildly in his chest. 

 

Hanzo kisses him hard in the storage room, pressed up against the wall with his hands holding on to the front of his shirt. 

 

“Heavy liftin' my ass. I must say, this is very unlike you,” Jesse says as soon as he has the air and opportunity to do so. 

 

Hanzo’s smile is small and it’s almost dark enough to miss it. “Not that you are complaining?”

 

“Never.” 

 

Hanzo runs his hands over Jesse’s chest, straightening the creases he caused. “Extraordinary circumstances.” 

 

Jesse gently tips up his chin and kisses him real sweet like he deserves. “What about that famous work ethic?” 

 

It gets him a laugh, quiet but unmistakable. “Troublemaker,” Hanzo says, so fondly it almost breaks Jesse’s heart, and buries his face in the soft fabric of his shirt. “I... to you... I feel the same.”

 

The pitter patter of Jesse’s heart feels more like a stampede as he digs a hand into Hanzo’s hair. “Aw hell, honey,” he murmurs, all but clinging to him. “I’m gonna miss you.”

 

“I do not think this is a conversation I can have again,” Hanzo says, muffled against Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse draws him impossibly closer, so tight it’s probably hard for Hanzo to breathe. 

 

“Yeah, I get that. Can’t help it though. Bein’ with you’s really changed… everything, y’know? You change everything.”

 

Hanzo’s hands clutch the back of his shirt, and now it’s Jesse’s turn to be crushed within the strength of an embrace. “I know this feeling.”

 

Quietly, he presses his laugh to the top of Hanzo’s head. “I’ll come back. Swear I will. Sooner than you think, too. You couldn’t keep me away.”

 

“I would never try.”

 

“The general 'you', darlin’.”

 

“They would not dare.” 

 

Jesse laughs again and closes his eyes. He’ll allow himself this, for as long as possible. For as long as Hanzo will have him. 

 

Or until his phones buzzes in his front pocket. 

 

He feels Hanzo tensing up and then sighs. He doesn’t need to check his phone to know who it is. There’s a standard procedure for extractions after all. 

 

“You need to go,” Hanzo says. It’s not a question but Jesse still wants to tell him no. His throat feels tight all of a sudden. 

 

“Don’t want to.” 

 

In the end, it’s Hanzo who untangles himself from Jesse’s embrace first, for a moment not bothering to mask the sadness on his face. “You will come back,” he says and pats Jesse’s chest. “Sooner than I think.” 

 

Jesse smiles like heat isn’t pricking his eyes. “That’s right.” 

 

Hanzo’s hands wander to his shoulders, down to his biceps. “I will take you to the airport.”

 

“Now, Mister Shimada.” Jesse takes Hanzo’s hands and with all the delicacy of a gentleman Jesse McCree most certainly isn’t, he kisses his fingers. “You have a job to do.”

 

But Hanzo’s already pulling back and untying his apron. “It will only take me an hour or two. I will inform the others.”

 

Hanzo doesn’t have a car, or even a motorbike; what he does have is unstoppable motivation when calling a taxi. Genji sees them both off at the curb, punching Jesse in the shoulder as the cab rolls up.

 

“What is it you Americans say? Don’t be a stranger.”

 

“You callin’ me strange, carrot boy?”

 

Genji snickers as Hanzo nudges Jesse toward the cab, and Genji waves them off jauntily. 

 

Hanzo speaks briefly to the driver in Japanese, too fast for Jesse to understand much, but is quiet for the rest of the drive. Jesse gets it. For once, he doesn’t feel much like talking. He doesn’t think there’d be any words to properly express what he’s feeling anyway. Hanzo looks straight ahead but when Jesse takes his hand, he slots his fingers in between Jesse’s like they were made for it. 

 

Jesse’s done a lot of wild things in the back of a cab, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever remember any of them as clearly as he’ll remember this. 

 

When the taxi stops at the airport at the edge of town, Jesse moves to pull out his wallet but Hanzo waves him off. Something in his expression tells Jesse not to argue. He gets his bags out of the trunk instead. 

 

The airport hangar is just as small and deserted as he remembers it. There are no people that he can see around the single hangar and only one plane parked next to it, looking a little shabby for the extraction of an agent of the UN.  


 

Not exactly the setting for the end of a romantic movie. 

 

“Got a layover in Kyoto,” he says at the gate where Hanzo can go no further, fiddling with his bags, his hat, the side of his neck. “One more somewhere in Europe. Then it’s Switzerland for me.”

 

“I hear it is beautiful there,” Hanzo quietly says, hands at his sides. Jesse… Jesse can’t stand to see them hang there, empty. He reaches out and takes them both. 

 

“I know you’re a little funny about public displays, but…”

 

“No.” Hanzo squeezes his hands. “This is fine. Jesse…”

 

“Just…” He leans in one last time, breathing in the scent of Hanzo’s hair, his sharp tea-scent, stale sweat and beef broth. Hanzo holds his hands so tightly he can feel the bones creak. “You’re gonna be so tired of me, how often I’ll text you. I’ll send you real scandalous things too, so watch who you open my messages around.”

 

“Do not threaten me with dick pics, Jesse McCree.” 

 

“Ain't a threat,” Jesse protests. “Think of it like Christmas morning every day.” 

 

Hanzo makes a sound that could almost be laughter. He reaches up to cup the side of Jesse’s face for a short moment before dropping his hand. “I will not hold you to that one.” 

 

“Spoilsport.” Jesse leans in for one last kiss, sweet and lingering, with no one around to see or care but the two of them. 

 

He hears the plane before he sees it. It’s the small, two propeller kind that Angela hates. Judging by the landing, Jesse’s in for a bumpy ride. 

 

When he turns his head, he sees Hanzo scowling at it, like it alone is to blame for the entire situation. It might as well be, with the way Jesse’s heart sinks just at the sight of it. 

 

“It’s perfectly safe,” he says, as if that was the problem. 

 

Hanzo’s scowl only deepens. 

 

“Even if it ain’t, I’d survive the crash,” he says, smiling with his properly sharp teeth. “Trust me, sweetheart; it’d take more than a shitty plane to take out ol’ Jesse.”

 

“I love you.”

 

Jesse’s heart nearly stutters out of his chest, and he really has to go, but Hanzo’s frowning at him with a red face and he’s the sweetest damn thing Jesse’s ever seen. He really, _really_ has to leave, so he trots backwards toward the gate, watching Hanzo all the way. 

 

“You’re the light of my life!” he hollers, startling the airport security as he walks through, backwards. They hasten him to turn around, to treat security measures with the proper respect, but he only just makes the cut with how he keeps looking over his shoulder to look at Hanzo. At the last moment before he disappears, Jesse blows him a kiss and sticks around just long enough to watch Hanzo hesitantly, subtly catch it. 

 

Jesse whoops and shoots him two finger guns before it’s Hanzo who finally turns away and hurries off. 

  
And Jesse boards his plane with a heart so light he thinks it might be the one thing lifting them off the ground.


	22. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with us through this thing that turned from a silly AU idea into what we (usually lovingly) call “a MONSTER”. I hope it’s brought you some joy and comfort in the last few months as writing and sharing it and reading all your feedback has for us. THANK YOU! <3  
> -mywordsflyup
> 
>  
> 
> later nerds. it's been real  
> -b

It’s been awhile since Jesse’s been on a proper commercial airplane, with real flight attendants and reclining seats and movies on tiny screens. It’s nicer than he remembers it, especially those tiny bags of peanuts and the two sips of bourbon they serve him in a plastic cup. He’s on vacation after all. 

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can hear Reyes scoffing. Blackwatch operatives don’t get vacation time. Not officially. But then again, there’s hardly anything they do _officially._ (Which somehow isn’t a line of reasoning Reyes particularly seems to enjoy.)

 

Jesse turns off the movie that’s been playing on the back of the seat in front of him. It’s not like he was paying attention to it anyway. If he’s honest, it was just a way for him to not look at the little animation of a plane slowly creeping its way across an endless ocean of blue. Why anyone thought it would be a good idea to let passengers look at this form of torture is beyond him. 

 

He switches back to it now because apparently he likes suffering after all. 

 

Jesse almost jumps when he sees how close the plane has already gotten to its destination. There’s no point in getting excited now. It’s still going to take at least an hour or two, but he can’t help but keep looking at the familiar shape of the islands in the right corner of the screen. 

 

He’s too antsy to sleep, and he’s too close to drink more just to knock him out, so he pulls out his phone to scan over a very particular set of documents. He thinks he’s lost the right to call it a casual peek after the tenth scour, thorough as he is. 

 

The official title of the document still sends tingles through him, even though he’s looked over it nearly a dozen times.  _ Mateship. _ Mate - ship. He still hasn’t mustered up the nerve to say the damn thing out loud, but it creeps down from his brain to his lungs when he isn’t careful and squeezes like a goddamn python.

 

Hastily, he minimizes the PDF and switches to something only slightly less dangerous.

 

The endless row of chatter between himself and Hanzo over the past few months never fails to draw a smile from him. He looks over it sometimes when things are low, when missions go sour or they do something dirty a little too well. 

 

Hanzo likes to play aloof sometimes - oftentimes - and it’s all one big act that Jesse can call him on with photo evidence, because he can access all the vintage memes Hanzo’s sent him when he’s had a little too much sake. Way up there somewhere is even a link for gawdy customized belt-buckles tipsy Hanzo’d sent with a little: [I thought you might enjoy this, cowman.] and there’s a big golden plate strapped to Jesse’s gut he’s just dying to show him. 

 

They’ve been looking forward to this day since the moment Jesse left Hanamura, and their texts are ample evidence. Enough “I can’t wait”s and “soon”s to fill a canyon, some of them unspoken but most of them not. 

 

He’s basically been living with Hanzo in his pocket for months, always there on the other line - save for those few cursed hours of time difference. But still, it’s not the same as the real thing. Hanzo in his arms again, with his hands and his scent and his smile and his voice. 

 

Jesse wills his legs to stay still, even though he feels antsy enough to jump up and walk around the plane until they land. 

 

The flight attendant gives him a concerned smile and offers him another drink. He declines politely and goes back to looking through his old texts. He needs to be sober today. He can’t miss a single second of it. 

 

Despite himself, he does manage to get a few winks with a flimsy blanket tucked high on his chest before they land, and once they do, he’s off like a shot through security and passport checks, through customs and out into the main plaza. 

 

A shock of green hair greets him just beyond the panel marked Incoming Flights, standing in between staunch well-dressed businessmen and holding up a giant sign with his name written in glitter. 

 

“McCree!” he calls, lifting the sign up with a little flapping wave. The men around him startle a little and stiffly sweep glitter from their suits as Jesse makes a beeline for his ride. 

 

“Well howdy!”

 

“What  _ is  _ that?” Genji laughs, pointing at his belt buckle. Jesse drops his duffel bag just to prop his fists on his hips to flaunt it.

 

“What d’you think? Pretty great, huh?”

 

“It is atrocious,” Genji gleefully informs him. “Hanzo will love it unironically, and hate himself for it.”

 

Jesse tucks his thumbs into his belt loops and grins. “Well, at least half of that was my goal.” 

 

“I knew there was a reason I missed you,” Genji says and snatches up Jesse’s bag before he can stop him. 

 

“Now that’s real touching.” 

 

Genji places a hand on the center of his chest and nods gravely. “That is just the kind of person I am.”

 

They make their way through the crowd and outside the airport. Jesse’s used to getting stares from the last time he was in Hanamura but it’s nothing compared to the attention he gets with Genji by his side. 

 

“Where’d you leave that shiny boyfriend of yours?” 

 

“Back at the temple. Possibly… decorating.” Genji shrugs when he sees Jesse’s raised eyebrow. “He likes celebrations. There might even be a banner with your name on it.”

 

Jesse gasps. 

 

“No promises. Just a hunch.” 

 

Genji guides him not to the taxi pickup terminal, but to an underground parking lot where he stops at a motorbike lane. From a lime green bike, he tosses a helmet to Jesse, who crams it on with a low whistle.

 

“You like to accessorize with your bike, huh?”

 

“I do not know what you mean,” Genji says mildly, stowing Jesse’s meager luggage in a rack on the back of his motorbike before swinging a leg over. “I had the hair first.” He cranes his head around to watch Jesse get on and waits for him to get comfortable, musing, “You are hairier than before.”

 

“Yeah?” Jesse rubs at his jaw, scooting up close to Genji. “Yeah, I’ve been growing ‘er out. Think your brother’ll be into it?”

 

Genji hoots with laughter as he brings the bike to life and walks it back out of the rack. “Where Hanzo is concerned, the scruffier, the better!”

 

Genji drives very much like Jesse has seen him flying in his dragon form: real damn wild, and even more confident.  


 

Jesse can only imagine what Hanzo would have to say about it, but there’s not a second he actually fears for his safety on the back of this bike - despite the sharp bends and close passing maneuvers. Genji’s confidence isn’t unfounded. 

 

The drive from this airport takes longer than the one to the pitiful airfield he left from but as soon as they leave the city behind, he spots the familiar sight of Hanamura up high in the distance. Like a place forgotten in time, with its traditional roofs and cherry trees. 

 

His heart leaps in his chest and he squeezes Genji a bit tighter where he’s holding on to him. Genji turns his head a little and shouts something but his words are carried off by the wind before Jesse can man sense of them. 

 

Once the enter town, Genji slows down, just as the memories come rolling over Jesse like giant waves. Every road is familiar, every little stone, every tree beautiful to him. He knows it has little to do with architecture or these streets and more with the man who walks them day in and day out. 

 

Jesse'd expected that Genji would take him to the shop. It’s the middle of day, after all. But Genji makes a left turn and takes another route. Jesse’s heart starts beating faster even before the familiar shape of the temple looms up into the sky before them. 

 

“The hell are we doin’?” he shouts, but again, Genji’s reply is lost to him.

 

Genji rolls through the castle gates without a care in the world, deftly maneuvering the paths between the rocks by the temple bell. He parks near the steps of the temple, pulling his helmet off and ruffling his own hair before Jesse can accuse him of helmet hair. Jesse catches on quickly and does the same, but he imagines that instead of the artful tussle Genji can pull off, his is likely a little more reminiscent of a rat’s nest.

 

“Alright, I’ll bite,” he says, tossing his helmet into the basket and shouldering his bags. “What’re we doin’ here?”

 

“Do you really think my brother would not take the day off for this? He has been preparing for this day for weeks. It has been sickening to watch.” 

 

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ve suffered a real awful lot.” Jesse runs his fingers through his hair one more time, nervousness suddenly making his chest feel tight. The wind rustles through the cherry trees and a few blossoms gently float to the ground. It’s just like it’s always been. 

 

“You have returned. Early!” 

  
Jesse looks up to see Zenyatta at the top of the stairs, hovering above the ground with his orbs drawing lazy circles around his neck. Before Jesse can even take a step towards him, he’s already moving down the way. 

 

“Light traffic,” Genji says with the most innocent smile on his face."And I thought time was an illusion, Master."  


 

Jesse laughs. “Like you would’ve cared about traffic…” 

 

“I anticipate nothing but total caution from you, Genji,” Zenyatta says so mildly that Jesse knows he’s teasing. “But I fear that in your haste, you have arrived earlier than anticipated.”

 

Genji runs a hand through his hair again, this time in... nervousness? The look on his face is uncertain. 

 

“Is Hanzo... ill-prepared?”

 

Zenyatta folds his great hands in his lap, the tenor of his voice ringing with humor. “Not, I think, for Jesse McCree.”

 

“There somethin’ I should know?” Jesse cautions, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Y’all’re acting awfully cagey.”

 

Genji cocks his head. “I do not know what you mean.” 

 

“Sure you don’t…” 

 

Genji opens his mouth for another comment but Zenyatta interjects gently. “I fear if we keep you longer, we will not be easily forgiven.” 

 

“You know my brother.” Genji’s smile grows teeth, which never bodes well. 

 

Jesse suddenly feels like smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt and straightening his belt buckle. Whatever’s going on with Hanzo, he can’t feel half as ill-prepared as Jesse does in this moment. 

 

“We should not tease you so,” Zenyatta says in a way that makes Jesse thinks he doesn’t feel bad about it at all. “Why do you not go inside, and reward the patience you have both endured." 

 

Jesse shoots them another suspicious look before slowly walking up the steps. 

 

The great towering structure smells familiar inside, ancient wood, the chemical hint of polish, incense from afar. The well-tended painting of twin dragons in flight high over the temple draws his gaze up. 

 

And something else entirely draws it higher. 

 

A shape unfurls from the rafters to the right, massive both in size and the aura of its presence. Crawling over the banister and coiling downward through the air like a ribbon of blue, the biggest dragon he’s ever seen lights upon the ground. His paws are the size of wheelbarrows, and when they press flat against the polished wood of the dojo floor, Jesse can see how... fluffy they are. Talons the size of Jesse’s forearm not withstanding. 

 

Jesse watches, heart seized up tight in his chest as those mighty paws drag the beast closer, golden eyes bright and only for Jesse.

 

“Well.” His face already aches from smiling. “Hey there, sweetheart. You miss me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Inquire about fic requests [here!](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/ask)  
> mywordsflyup's Tumblr: [damnable-rogue](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com/)  
> Byacolate's Tumblr: [wardencommando](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/).  
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